


Blind Stars of Fortune

by AmbitiousSkychild



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Garrison days, Keith is just such an edgelord, Lance is a sweetheart, Lance is trying, M/M, Mutual Pining, Some of that good old klangst, Time Skips, everyone knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbitiousSkychild/pseuds/AmbitiousSkychild
Summary: It's always two steps forward, three steps back when it comes to Keith, but Lance is determined to make something work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from some lyrics of Led Zeppelin's Ten Years Gone, because I'm unimaginative about titles  
> Hope you enjoy it!

Lance was determined, admittedly, to form long lasting relationships with just about anyone he ever met. It was problematic, he had been forced again and again to realize over the years, but henceforth gained enemies notwithstanding, it was something he just couldn’t _not_ do. It was in his heart. He liked people.

Pidge was the last person he’d really tried to befriend, and that had gotten him millions of light-years out away from Earth and everything he loved on it. His cosmic need to befriend people really came in handy then.

Aside from Hunk already having been his best friend since the moment they met at the Garrison, he had won Pidge over soon enough, having enough small siblings to know how to deal with someone her age. Shiro liked everyone and Allura didn’t look at him with such disdain these days even if he insisted on throwing all his pickup lines her way. Coran seemed to find it amusing along with most anything else Lance did.

When it came to Keith, it took a while for him to warm up to them, but he got there. He and Pidge had bonded together quickly over cryptids and weapon gear. Hunk had called them brothers on their first night together and they had been friends ever since. Allura and Keith worked in a way that Lance couldn’t really wrap his mind around and in all honesty, didn’t want to. Shiro and Keith had already been close, and Coran who had seemed slightly scared of Keith at first had very quickly come around.

There was a distinct gap between himself and crossing the “friendship finish line,” though. The same gap that filled the seat between them during meals. The same gap that blocked the wavelengths between their lions. The same gap between the lungs in his chest when their eyes met.

It all felt like the color red.

*

He supposed his downfall was always going to be this overwhelming _need_ he had to be _noticed_ , to be liked. In the beginning, he had Hunk since the two of them entered the Garrison together in the same year. Hunk made friends easy, and usually, so did Lance, but sometimes, people were a little harder to crack. He tended to take it as a personal challenge when that happened.

Pidge Gunderson was no exception.

In Lance’s extremely relevant opinion, Pidge Gunderson had been weird since the day he got there, but today he was noticeably even weirder than usual after almost getting into it with Iverson earlier. _Twenty-seventh time’s the charm_ , Lance told himself, and Hunk as well, and he professed that it was, in fact, a _good_ idea – _great_ , even – to sneak to Pidge’s room and sneak him out, show him a good time out on the town, really force some bonding together, but,

“Yeah, Pidge is already sneaking out,” he muttered.

To which, Hunk had groaned, but continued along with Lance’s ideas because he was a great friend.

Pidge had been, presumably, jittery and twitchy at being caught up on the _roof_ , for God’s sake, and Lance thought _well okay, now we’ve kinda got dirt on the guy and hell, that’s one way to bond_ , but the moment Pidge uttered the words “alien radio chatter,” in complete and total seriousness, he started to regret it all.

He barely had time to think _this is why you’re problematic_ , before something flying, unidentified, and definitely not Garrison tech entered the Earth’s atmosphere. _What the hell is that?_

“I think it’s… _theirs_ ,” Pidge marveled. _Theirs_ being the aliens from Pidge’s supposed alien chatter, Lance assumed, and he forced Pidge’s binoculars up to his own eyes to try and predict where it would land. Though Hunk protested, two outnumbered one and they moved to a better position and, crazy or not, Pidge was able to grab a video feed, revealing Shiro Takashi from the Kerberos mission, strapped to a medical gurney.

Shiro Takashi who was being sedated.

Lance barely had time to ponder that they needed a distraction to go in and save him when an explosion hit the horizon, Pidge screaming that it was a distraction for _him_.

 _Him_ being–

“No way,” Lance griped, _marveled_ , thinking this couldn't be _real_. “Oh, he is _not_ going to beat us in there!” His brows set. “That guy is always trying to one-up me!” He was running to catch up to him before he’d made the decision to.

“Who is it?” Hunk called from behind him.

“ _Keith_!” Lance shouted back.

“Are you sure?”

Lance scoffed, sliding his way clumsily, but determinedly down the rock face. “Oh, I’d recognize that mullet anywhere!” The problem was trying to forget it.

Keith already had Shiro hanging off his arms when Lance made it inside after him. Seeing Keith again after so long could have shocked him. It should have. But Lance was long over succumbing to Keith’s general shock-factor.

“Nope! No you – nope! No, no, no, no, no, no you don’t! _I’m_ saving Shiro!” He pushed aside the medical gurney and lifted up Shiro’s other arm onto his own shoulders only for Keith to toss him a face full of shock-factor, anyway.

“Who are you?”

In a split second, Lance knew he couldn’t be serious – not after _everything_. But the look on his face…. It was too blank for Keith to be cracking one of his horrible, often-just-as-hurtful jokes. “Who am I?” Lance stalled. “The name’s Lance?” He blinked, and when still, nothing registered on Keith’s face, he found himself getting concerned, spit out: “We were in the same class at the Garrison?”

“Really, are you ah, engineer?”

Lance felt his face fall. “No, I’m a _pilot_ ,” Lance reminded him, wishing his voice hadn’t sounded so hurt. “We were like rivals, you know, Lance and Keith, neck-and-neck?”

“Oh, wait, I remember you,” Keith said, brows setting in upset and only after Lance had mentioned the “rivals” thing and not _everything else._ “You’re a cargo pilot.”

“Well, not anymore,” Lance spat defensively. “I’m fighter class now, thanks to you washing out.”

“Well,” Keith muttered. “Congratulations.”

If Lance could put the feeling into words, he would say that it felt like his heart just _dropped_.

*

Lance’s easiest instinct, since the beginning, was to pick a fight with Keith. He wasn’t too dumb to notice the pattern – he knew he tended to go ballistic on the Red Paladin at the most inopportune times.

For instance, when they first got stuck on the other end of a wormhole. When Keith’s stupid hair was too distracting. When the amount of information in his brain could be stored in a paper airplane. Any time he was even slightly confused about anything, really.

And any time he thought to himself that he was a little out of control, Keith shot back just as heavy, just as heated, and then this _zing_ went through his chest that refused to let him back down even if he really, really needed to.

Lance would argue until his voice went raw, words having gone deaf to his own ears eons ago. It just mattered that he was _louder_ , that Keith continued to look genuinely hurt and taken aback. Keith couldn’t get a word in, couldn’t make some grand point that would undoubtedly win if Lance just never stopped screaming.

So he didn’t.

Until Shiro physically threw himself between them because Keith was gearing up for a punch. It wasn’t until Shiro restrained Keith that Lance even saw it and finally, _finally_ , Lance shut the hell up, pressed a hand to his jaw as if the punch had actually landed.

Shiro dragged Keith backwards out of the room, Coran coming to do the same to Lance though Lance fought less. Keith didn’t stop glaring at him until they could no longer see each other.

“Lance, my lad,” Coran started, strides down the hall going wider and more grandiose the more distance they gained from the training deck, “I – are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, he didn’t actually hit me,” Lance muttered, sulking behind him.

It didn’t stop Coran turning back to look at him every other stride or so. “It’s just that every time you and Keith have to interact you… you go kind of… you–”

“Make an ass of myself,” Lance supplied, feeling guilty, but only a little. Somehow, someway, Keith always had it coming, but that didn’t give him the right to drag the others into it.

“But what did he do?” Coran asked, turning into the observatory.

“What did he do?” Lance scoffed. “What _didn’t_ he do?”

“Right, right, my apologies,” Coran said, crossing his arms and levelling him steely eyes. _Coran_? Serving him _sass_? He really had been acting like an ass. “That dastardly Keith, always….” He left his comment open-ended. Lance knew what he was doing, but he wasn’t having it.

“ _Exactly_!” Lance exclaimed instead, throwing his arms up in frustration. “He’s just so _Keith_ all the time and I’m–! I’m _right_ , dammit!”

“Lance,” the Altean sighed deeply, moving to stand on the observatory deck. “I know you all knew each other before any of this happened. I know that must be hard, having familiarities with everyone and that changing on you. I can only imagine. It’s just that things are different now, right? You five are the paladins of Voltron!”

“I know, I know,” Lance groaned. “You’re right, Coran, as always. It’s not about me or my problems – I – I’ll get over it, I just–”

“That’s not what I said, Lance!” Coran interrupted, hands out to calm him down. “You know, the paladins were meant to be close. The five of you are meant to have a closer bond than with anyone else. It’s happened in the past that paladins have butt heads, but not like this.”

“Who wouldn’t butt heads with Keith? He’s so–”

“ _Lance_ ,” Coran said, gently, in warning, more threatening than if he had yelled. “For the sake of Voltron, you have to sort this out. Think of it this way: the sooner you and Keith can sort this out, the sooner you can bond, the stronger Voltron gets, the sooner we can defeat the Galra, the sooner you can go home!”

“Coran,” Lance groaned, because you tell the guy you’re homesick _one time_.

“It would just be a lot less… hectic for you around the ship if you didn’t have to fight the Galra alongside your ‘rival’ or whatever, don’t you think? Don’t you think it would be easier if you worked this out?”

“And I’m sure you guys being tired of us fighting has nothing to do with this talk.”

“Nothing at all,” Coran lied badly. “In all seriousness, Lance, you and Keith constantly butting heads like this could eventually start to effect Voltron and that cannot happen. Allura and I won’t have the universe in peril because you couldn’t make up with your friend.”

“He’s not my _friend_ ,” Lance sulked, because he tended to give his opinions at the most inopportune times, and boy was this inopportune. “And moving past all this is up to _him_.” It always had been.

Being much too old for slightly dramatic departures didn’t stop him from making his leave then. He felt himself growing angrier and angrier the longer he walked. It wasn’t even Coran he was angry at, per se, more that Coran always said things out loud that Lance didn’t want to have to think about.

He stomped to the kitchen to find Hunk and Pidge already lounging there. Pidge was sitting on the table doing calculations on one of her gadgets and Hunk was supervising from his seat. That was, until Lance stormed in, effectively startling the both of them so that Pidge almost fell over.

“Lance!” Hunk shouted in surprise, wry smile on his face until he got a good look at Lance’s. “Whoa, buddy, you okay?”

“ _I’m_ –” he took a breath, tried to tone his voice down. None of this was Hunk’s fault. “I’m fine. I’m hungry.”

“Oh, you want some food goo?” Hunk said, face lighting up as he stood to walk toward him. “I’ve been working on something new. You can be my taste-tester since Pidge won’t,” he shot her a pretend glare.

She didn’t remove her eyes from her project. “I’m working!” She protested.

“Sure, buddy,” Lance answered, letting Hunk steer him to a seat at the table. “Thanks.”

“You’re the one helping me,” Hunk shrugged, finding a bowl.

“So what the hell happened?” Pidge asked, gently placing down her tech to turn her full attention to Lance. “Allura said you got into it again.”

“She told you?” Lance demanded.

“More like we all heard you screaming,” Pidge answered. “Allura just came in to tell us that nothing major had happened. As usual.”

“Nothing major,” Lance scoffed, remembering – always remembering – months and months ago when that had been the farthest thing from the truth. Hunk came over and placed a bowl of food goo before him before he could really get to pouting. “Thanks, man. You the real MVP.”

“Just tell me how you like it,” Hunk chuckled, sitting beside him.

“Unless you’d like to finally tell us what the hell _did_ happen between you,” Pidge chided, not letting Hunk’s well-timed interference deter her. The longer she stared at him, the more impish her grin became.

“You know how you sound right?” Lance scoffed, taking a bite of his food. “Whoa! Hunk this is great!” He turned back to Pidge, smirk set in place. “What makes you so sure something had to have happened?”

“Oh don’t even _start_ that!” Pidge yelled, incredulous smile lighting up her face.

“We just hate each other, Pidge,” Lance shrugged noncommittally. “It happens. You wouldn’t know that because you’re ‘too smart to have friends,’ but sometimes people just suck, okay, and Keith _royally sucks_.”

“Hey,” Pidge protested, gently nudging his shoulder with her fist. “I’m not ‘too smart to have friends.’ Not anymore. We’re family, right? I know I did this to get my dad and my brother back, but you guys are my family now, too.”

“Yeah?” Lance asked, feeling proud and slightly protective of the little gremlin.

“Yeah,” Pidge nodded, smile turning superior. “And that includes Keith.”

 _Gremlin_ being the keyword. “Betrayal.”

“He’s not so bad!” Pidge protested.

“He’s really not,” Hunk agreed, albeit, reluctantly as he avoided all eye contact and that just wasn’t fair. Hunk was his best friend, Hunk was supposed to take _his_ side regardless of any type of reasoning.

“ _Et tu Brutus_?!”

“Jesus, you’re so dramatic,” Pidge laughed.

“ _Keith is the devil_!” Lance answered.

“Why are you _like_ this?” Hunk guffawed, laughing loudly and boldly enough to get Lance laughing, himself.

“Listen, don’t worry about it,” Lance said finally. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” Pidge sighed, resigned. “But when this starts screwing with Voltron….”

“You sound like Coran,” Lance rolled his eyes.

“What exactly did Coran say?” Hunk challenged conversationally.

Lance was all too happy to go into a dramatic retelling of the lecturing Coran had given him mere minutes ago, which had his friends laughing, but unfortunately agreeing as well.

“If you’re gonna side with Coran over me, too, and over _Keith,_ no less,” Lance drawled, a little annoyed among other things, “then I don’t want to talk about this anymore. So what are you working on, there, Pidge?”

Pidge levelled him an unimpressed stare, but acquiesced none the less, going on to describe in great detail her latest gadget, all of it going far, far over Lance’s head, but making him proud, anyway.

“And _you_ , you beautiful genius,” Lance continued, “How the hell were you able to fix the taste of food goo?”

“I know you’re just using us so you don’t have to deal with your Keith problem,” Hunk chastised, unimpressed with crossed arms and everything, “but okay. All I _really_ had to do was break down the properties of the goo and figure out what exactly was in it, _then_ –”

Followed by more science-y jargon that Lance couldn’t care less about, but as long as they got better food out of it, he didn’t really care.

“If that’s really all you need to recreate the flavor of _pizza_ ,” Pidge chimed in, sounding more excited than Lance had possibly ever heard her, “then I can totally help you out there. Let’s see what I’ve got,” she mused, turning to one of her small handhelds and scrolling through what Lance could only assume to be a list of materials and resources they had encountered since entering space. It made Lance a little smug as he thought back to when Pidge wouldn’t give them the time of day back at the Garrison.

He opened his mouth to tease her, taunting quip at the ready, “Hey, Pidge, you–”

The automatic doors to the kitchen slid open then, followed by: “Do you wanna go train?”

Lance looked up to see Keith, standing in the doorway looking lost with eyes so grey they seemed purple. He bit at the corner of his bottom lip, looking just like he had all those months ago back at the Garrison.

He was drawn in on himself a little, like he hadn’t really wanted to ask, but his eyes remained hard and steely, refusing to back down from this even if he didn’t want it, even if the training deck had been, in fact, where they had just exploded on each other not two hours ago. Not to mention they hadn’t even been sparring each other then.

The longer Lance watched, waiting for something to crack, the more defiant Keith’s glare became and Lance _knew_ that look. It was the same look Keith had sported when Iverson got onto him about petty uniform regulations, or his brilliant executions being ruined entirely by his attitude problem. It was the look Keith wore whenever Iverson screamed at him to shape up or ship out again and again _and again_ until it didn’t matter anymore because Keith had made his choice. It was the look Keith wore when he knew he had to put up with complete and utter bullshit _or else_.

This had Shiro written all over it.

He answered with complete certainty. “No.”

Not wanting to deal with the reactions of Hunk and Pidge all over again, Lance left his food goo sitting on the table and made his exit. Keith, ever the stubborn rock, didn’t even step aside, letting Lance bump into his shoulder on his way out.

*

The words “orientation” and “mandatory” were the first words Lance could really remember associating with the Garrison. He had only been fifteen when they first applied to him.

Since anyone going to orientation was his age at the oldest, the families of the new accept-ees had been encouraged (enforced, really, since everyone was fifteen and had no other means of transportation) to attend and Lance thought _oh God, why_?

“Why not?” his mother had countered teasingly. “I wanna see what exactly my boy’s gonna be learning at his big, new, fancy, _expensive_ school.” She cooed, taking one of her hands off the wheel to pinch his cheek, only because she knew it embarrassed him in front of all his other siblings huddled into the back of the van.

It had only gotten worse when they got there. The twins wouldn’t stop _crying_ for some reason and his mom was literally on Facetime with his father who kept yelling for him to come to the phone in Spanish.

Sofia was actively checking out every guy in the area and Matthew was only literally screaming about it, bringing a lot of attention to them as a group and Lance had never face-palmed so hard.

“Lance,” Cleo drawled loudly, “you wouldn’t be embarrassed of us, would you?”

“No,” Lance huffed, but he had just, in fact, _huffed_ , so there was that.

“ _Lance_ ,” Cleo said. And Lance knew that tone. It meant _look at me_. When he did, Cleo gave him that half-smile that meant the world somehow. The one they both got from Dad. The one that made him know it was going to be okay and that even though Cleo didn’t get to see him nearly enough anymore, she loved him.

“No,” Lance answered again. “I’m not, really. Thanks for supporting me, I guess.”

She shrugged, looking slightly relieved but mostly smug as usual. “Are you nervous?”

“No. I worked hard to get here and I’m gonna bust my ass. I’m not gonna have time to be nervous.”

“Dude, you’re so nervous,” Cleo laughed softly.

“It’s nothing,” Lance answered quickly, reflexively. They chose their seats as the head-master walked onto the stage.

“It’ll pass,” she soothed, running a hand through his hair. “I was just as nervous when I started college, but it passes so fast. We McClains are resilient and you make friends easier than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re gonna be the most popular kid here in two weeks.”

Lance shook his head but smiled. College was turning his sister more adult-y by the minute, but sometimes it wasn’t necessarily _all_ bad.

Orientation was predictably hard to follow. He only had so much of an attention span and orientations were for parents, anyway. That was what he told himself, especially since his mom was actually taking notes.

“Lance,” Sofia gushed from his left. “You have to make friends with all these guys and bring them home with you for the holidays!”

“You’re thirteen, Sofia,” Lance laughed. “You’re still a kid.”

“That’s what you think,” Sofia had whispered heatedly back, crossing her arms along with her legs.

Lance hardly got started wondering to himself what the hell _that_ meant when a loud and very disruptive _creak_ sounded out from the back of the auditorium. A boy around Lance’s age, clearly a soon-to-be student, slid into the room through the opening in the doorway he’d created, flinching slightly as it creaked back shut behind him.

The headmaster continued on in her speech as if the interruption had never happened and the boy moved to take a seat near the back, a section of chairs to the right of Lance and his family.

He had yet to display any kind of expression of apology, or even sheepishness as he did so. He didn’t even look around, remained stoic and composed as he stiffly stared forward.

The kid had thick, inky black eyebrows and thicker blacker, hair, a little shaggy and unkempt, ending right at his neck. He had a long, straight nose that curved up just a little at the end above a hard line of a mouth. His eyes were hard to make out, since Lance was only working with a profile view, a distant one at that, but they appeared equally as calm-in-the face-of-danger as the rest of him and–

_Whoa._

“Wow, oh my _God_.”

Lance jumped at the suddenness of Sofia’s voice directly in his left ear. He turned to face her, noticing that she had leaned out, looking around him in the boy’s direction and Lance’s mood performed a nosedive _so_ quickly.

 _I can’t be up in this,_ he thought, frenzied _, I can’t be checking out –_ was he checking him out? _– the same guy as my kid sister!_

“You’re drooling on my leg,” Lance deadpanned, annoyed and _confused_ if anything.

Sofia ignored him, long past succumbing to the bait of Lance’s targeted teasing. “You have to make friends with that guy! If you care about me and don’t want me to die alone someday, you’ll do it.”

“I’m not gonna go make friends with some random kid for _you_ , Sofia.” _I’m gonna do it for me_. _Did I just think that_?

“What are we talking about, guys?” Cleo asked, using that voice that Lance knew to mean, _I know everything_. The smirk she flashed them sent the same message.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Lance and Sofia chirped in unison, turning forward during the rest of the orientation.

Lance couldn’t stop his gaze drifting back over toward their newest audience member though, and from the looks of it, neither could Sofia.

Once orientation ended, Lance tried his best not to seem too obvious about tracking the other kid’s movements, afraid, for some reason, that he might leave before…. Leave before what, exactly, he was still working out in his head.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Sofia decided proudly, the moment their mother turned away to tend to the twins who were again, _crying_ for some reason, and _that_ snapped Lance out of it.

“No!” Lance protested without any forethought. He distinctly heard Cleo snickering from somewhere behind them, but chose, for the sake of his own humility to ignore it. “I’m – I’ll go talk to him. He came in here all alone,” Lance thought out loud, a smile, slow and diminutive spreading across his face as he decided further upon his slightly dishonest plan of action. “He could probably use some friends.”

“There you go,” Cleo nodded, smirk becoming something far too amused.

Again, Lance ignored her. “Be right back.”

Lance took determined, measured steps toward the snack table where _he_ stood pouring himself a small cup of punch. He stood there alone like that was how he wanted to do everything – alone. Like it didn’t bother him. Like he was at ease that way. Should Lance be doing this?

 _You have to or Sofia’s gonna swoop in and –_ what that had to do with him, exactly, he was still working out in his head.

The boy didn’t look up, even when Lance was a mere three feet away. Lance cleared his throat and extended his hand, arm held out level and even like his dad had always taught him. “Hey,” he said in a sharp exhale. “I saw you–” _no Jesus, what are you doing?_ “M-my name’s Lance. Lance McClain.”

The boy lowered his cup, leaving his lips a little red from the juice. He eyed Lance’s hand like he didn’t trust it, but Lance remained steady, maintaining what he hoped to be a smile. He gave Lance a quick once-over, eyes lingering another second on his hand before finally settling on his eyes. _Purple? No way._

He placed his cup, half finished, back onto the snack table and finally responded, stoic, stiff, and short. “Keith.”

Lance’s hand remained outstretched seconds after he had gone.

*

“Alright, _what_ is going _on_?” Hunk screamed, his voice cracked and panicked through the comms. “Is anyone – is anyone else feeling that? Like we’re all about to go flying?”

Not only did Lance feel it, he was becoming certain that he was the cause of it. He was sure of it even before Blue started feeding ideas into his mind of nicer things to think to get him calm.

And he was pretty sure everyone else could sense it – all this negative energy coming from _him_ , threatening to literally tear them apart. Shiro groaned, loud and aggravated and honestly a little scary. “Are we all thinking of Voltron?” he demanded. “Or, like, justice and victory or something we can _all_ focus on _together_?”

At the very least, Shiro definitely knew.

Blue sent him a feeling that roughly translated in his mind to: _pretend_.

“What?”

She sent the same feeling only more amplified that felt more like: _fake_. He understood it to mean something similar to _fake it ‘til you make it_. “Okay, yeah,” Lance sighed out, looking out to the galaxy before them at the fleet of scavenger ships slowly advancing upon them. “I can do that, just gotta–”

“ _Lance_!” Keith screamed. “Is this _you_?!”

Lance checked to make sure his comm hadn’t been on just now. It hadn’t. What was Keith’s problem? “Keith, maybe now isn’t the time to call anyone out!” Lance hissed back.

“You’re gonna get us _killed_ you–”

Again, Shiro groaned, the two of them falling silent. “For _two seconds_ , can you–?”

“Guys, incoming!” Hunk screamed.

Lance had just enough time to glance around before they all felt the collision of one of the scavenger ships bumping into them the direct moment before Pidge could activate the shield.

“What happened?” Shiro demanded.

“I don’t know!” Pidge panicked. “The shield wasn’t responding!”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Lance yelled quickly but he heard Keith scoff and Blue sent _fake_ into his mind again.

“No one said it was, Lance, just,” Shiro groaned yet again, “come on guys, we can do this! They’re only scavenger ships, and we’re Voltron! Anything else we’re worried about can’t matter right now, we have to focus together!”

And Blue thought _fake_ again, but Lance never could just shut off his emotions. Blue was doing her best to soothe him, to get him focused on the task at hand, but Lance didn’t know how to shove his anger down, not when it was still so fresh and especially when it involved Keith. The distress alarm that the castle was under attack had gone off right smack in the middle of one of their more heated disagreements, and by then, they were both far past noticing it, the volume of the alert matched only by their screaming.

Lance could admit that their dispute, at least this time, had been his fault. They were in the common room and Pidge had been telling Keith about her family. It should have been nice, but it had really _irked_ Lance somehow. He understood that it was important for them, that after Keith exploded on her about nearly leaving Voltron, Pidge was trying to share that part of herself with him so he’d understand. It made sense to him logically, but emotionally, he felt oddly betrayed that she was opening up to _Keith_ of all people. The subject of families and missing them used to be a topic reserved for just the two of them, last he checked.

It wasn't even like Keith deserved it. All he was going to do with the information was conveniently forget it all the moment he felt like he needed to _bail_ , and–

“ _What_ was that?” Keith was glaring at him then, thick, inky eyebrows low over dark brooding eyes and then Lance realized he had been _talking_.

Suddenly having to live his life with Keith in such proximity was slowly manifesting itself in that his brain-to-mouth filter was either slightly frazzled or completely _gone_ in a hauntingly familiar way that he didn’t want to accept.

Never one to back down, however, or even think things halfway through on most occasions, he schooled his expression, levelled out: “You heard me.”

Keith came alive then, storming around Pidge and coming at him like a truck. Lance stood his ground, heightening his stance. He glowered down at him as Keith came to an abrupt halt right in front of him. “Do you have something to say to me, Lance?”

Lance faltered at that. He hadn't meant to say anything in the first place and now that he was in the spotlight, he really wasn't ready to say anything of crucial significance now. Especially in front of Pidge.

But something in his expression must have betrayed him, because Keith huffed, drew his hands into fists at his side. “You _do_.”

“So what if I do?!” Lance yelled back thoughtlessly.

The Red Paladin’s grey eyes went wide, mouth dropping open into an angry scowl of shock. “Well, are you gonna say it?!”

“Oh, don’t make this out to be like I’m the only one here who has a problem!” Lance retorted instead. “You’ve had a problem with me since the day Shiro came back!”

“No, I fucking _haven’t_ ,” Keith stressed, voice angry and raw as he restrained his own hands.

“Well then, what the hell do you call _this_?!”

“I call this you being a bastard, Lance!”

“Hey, guys, _guys_!” Pidge screamed, throwing herself between them, though she had had to do some jumping to reach their eye level. “Do you seriously not hear that? You can kill each other later, but now we have to go, the alarm is going off!”

Wide-eyed and guilty, Keith threw one last glare at Lance, groaned loudly, then took off running toward the lions. Lance had pretended Pidge wasn’t glowering at him too as he took after Keith.

Lance felt himself getting angry all over again, but this time it was doubled with a bit of self-deprecation. He felt Blue reach out to him then, trying to nudge the negativity away as she grounded him back to Voltron, back to the scavenger ships surrounding them. Like Shiro said, his stupid argument with Keith couldn't matter right now.

 _Fake_ , Blue thought again and Lance shook his head as if that would physically clear the other thoughts from his mind. _Just pretend like you aren’t mad_ , he told himself. _Pretend like… pretend like you’re just in the simulator_.

Blue sent him a wave that felt like an indignant: _I am a real machine_.

“I’m faking,” Lance chuckled lightly.

He told himself then that it was just Hunk, Pidge and himself wrecking the simulator again, but with the added bonus of not getting chewed out by Iverson. That Keith was just someone he knew who’d flunked out, giving him the opportunity to become fighter class. That this wasn’t only his eighth or ninth running in the lion and that he knew exactly what he was doing; that fucking _scavenger ships_ weren’t exhaustingly overwhelming, even if the only other enemy they had faced had been actual Galra.

Once they were halfway through the scavenger ships, the remaining ones began to retreat, creating a simultaneous cheer of victory from four of the five paladins. Pidge even went so far as to start trash-talking them before Shiro was successfully able to rein her in.

“I mean, aren’t we _glad_ they turned back?” Hunk teased her.

With the lions safe in the hangar, the castle safe as well as its inhabitants, all five paladins dismounted their lions quickly when Allura came over the comms, crooning that this caused for a celebratory meal.

Pidge sauntered up to Hunk, who stood waiting for her to jump down from Green. “Well, I mean, sure. Still, no _finesse_ in it. Cowardly. Weak.”

“Just means we’re getting better,” Shiro decided, grin hopeful and infectious.

“Huh,” Lance hummed thoughtfully. That was good news, considering. In the face of all this, some dumb argument he’d instigated seemed petty and foolish. He risked a look in Keith’s direction, trying and failing to nonchalantly catch his eye. The Blue Paladin slowed his walk to match up with Keith’s. Keith rolled grey eyes over to meet with bright blue. Lance let an easy smile break free. “Looks like Voltron is gonna be a real, true force to be reckoned with, soon, huh?”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Keith scoffed, angry all over again as he stormed ahead.

*

 _“Keith_ ,” as it turned out, was actually incredibly intelligent. There was no other word for it aside from _shocking_ , the way he sat at his desk completely silent, completely unassuming until the professor called him out during class, mentioning how well he did on the acceptance test. He conversationally asked, as if to confirm the hearsay, the major properties of a safe and sustainable aircraft. Keith had answered in that quiet but powerful way he did everything, and even threw in a comment or two about theoretical wingspan ideas for good measure.

Further, he was incredibly standoffish. Not to mention angry. The first observation, Lance had known firsthand since orientation, but the rest he came to understand later on. Keith was rude, snobby, and had the self-assurance of someone who was on their way out of an academy like this, rather than someone just getting their foot in the door.

Remarkably, none of that negated the fact that he was also incredibly _hot_.

Keith sat in the desk closest to the door if he could help it. His hair was growing; it hung like a dark barricade over his eyes as his cheek rested in his open palm during class. Sometimes when he sighed deeply enough his hair wisped up just long enough for Lance to see how long his eyelashes were.  His handwriting, Lance noticed on one occasion, was incredibly slanted, but not quite cursive. He took excellent notes but he doodled the same strange symbol in the margins, though Lance could never figure out what it was supposed to be. Consistently, it was a short, squiggly type of shape that came to a thick point at the end that he then shaded in heavily with his ink pen.

Lance often thought of perhaps asking Keith what it was supposed to be, if it meant something or if it was just another one of those images every generation of youths drew on things when they should be taking notes, but space school edition. He would often think of the perfect way to start a conversation with him, but Keith’s expression was always so closed off, he decided against it. And that was fine, he supposed. He didn’t want to risk making it any worse until he thought of something to say that was foolproof, something that would keep Keith from walking away from him.

Until that day, Lance continued to pay an honestly alarming amount of attention to the pretty asshole two seats down and Keith continued not to give him the time of day.

*

Then the script flipped.

Case and point: Lance working alone together with Keith to investigate the mines of the Balmera. To think, Lance had expected the news of the two of them being paired up to execute this mission would have felt like being held at gunpoint, or at the very least, that Keith would have looked like it. As a lesson in assuming however, Keith took the news like a true, mature member of Voltron, forcing Lance to have to, too.

The beginning stages of it Lance spent trying to figure out how the hell the two of them had reached this point in their rivalry and came to the conclusion that it had to have started the moment he woke up with exhaustion in his bones, a crick in his neck, and wobbly knees as he stumbled his way out of a healing pod. It ended, of course, with Keith screaming that they’d had a moment.

To see such raw emotion on Keith’s face would have been satisfying if it weren’t so unprecedented. “We had a bonding moment!” He had stressed. “I cradled you in my arms!”

And Lance thought he had no right. He thought that Keith had sounded so desperate and so open in front of the only people (and two Alteans) that they knew now and that it was so unlike him. He thought he never wanted to see Keith look that utterly wrecked again, but most of all that _Keith had no right_.

Lance glared. “Nope, don’t remember, didn’t happen.” _Take that, Keith_.

But he thought about it. Tied with the revelation that he had somehow missed Pidge being a girl all this time, what could he do but think about it? He couldn’t actively _stop_ thinking about it.

He thought about it from the moment it happened to the moment he met Nyma. Then when Nyma betrayed him, he thought about it twice as hard. There were sonnets and lengthy satirical dissertations maxing out theoretical word counts in his mind on the actual event itself but, _more remarkable still_ , even more energy and brainpower was sourced to wondering where the hell it even came from.

The thing was, Lance did kind of remember the bonding moment in question now that some time had passed for him to process it all. He didn't remember much else, but he at least remembered telling Keith that they made a good team. And he thought to himself, as he remained, chained like a dog on a leash (and God, the metaphorical irony was not lost on him) to some stupid alien tree out in the middle of nowhere due to his own stupid actions, that at this point, he was keeping that to himself.

Maybe making Keith sweat this out was a good thing. Logically, he didn't see how, exactly, but it was most likely revenge talking anyway, and he wasn't about to argue with revenge.

Then, after what felt like hours of solitude in the form of stewing in his own angst, a foot and a half away, from his helmet, came (unexpectedly) Keith’s voice through the comms, proclaiming that he had gotten Blue back for him. Perhaps it was because Lance had been in the process of constructing a mental thesis on Keith-speak in his mind for the past several hours, but he didn't miss the implied: “for you.”

Read: “Lance, I got your lion back _for you._ ”

And as if to continue the upward slope of topping _that_ , in response to Lance asking him to come rescue him, Keith had responded in the least likely of Keith responses which was surprisingly _playful_ and Lance was.

To put it lightly, Lance was at a loss. It felt like hope with a high risk of falling back down into the deep, dark unknown. It felt like a horrible idea. It felt like being left at a snack table with his hand outstretched to be greeted by no one.

It felt like he was thinking too hard, not that that stopped it, or even put a damper on it, and he felt that way up until he made it side-by-side with The Red Paladin himself down into the mines of the Balmera.

Lance found himself, yet again, faced with the opportunity to ignore Keith’s general shock-factor, but he didn't have it in him to keep up with the pretense. Keith was, and always would be, exemplary whereas Lance was just lucky, but this time, this mission, it really didn't feel like that.

It felt like they were on the same playing field. Like Lance was useful and Keith was reliable; like they were equal members of the same team and Lance didn't worry once about whether or not Keith was going easy on him.

God, it felt like this may have been a ploy by Shiro and Allura the whole time, but they didn't have to know they were right. And God were they right. Lance wondered if Keith had ever worked with anyone like this before, because this - this had to be something.

“This is,” Lance huffed, breathing hard after yet another fight with the sentries. “This is - hey, this going well, isn't it?”

“Don’t ruin it,” Keith huffed back, voice sounding clipped as usual, but there was a teasing, look in his eyes that made Lance, again, feel at a loss.

Lance smirked. “Right, sorry, edgelord.”

“This way,” Keith responded, a small chuckle breaking free that wrapped a leash tight but fitting around Lance’s neck and dragged him along. Lance followed Keith into a room that wound up being directly above where they needed to be. Keith had to brandish his bayard to cut a hole in the floor. Lance dropped through first for the sole purpose of not giving Keith the satisfaction of seeing how impressed he knew his expression had to be.

He landed crudely onto the sentry manning the control panel with a shout, Keith swooping down right after, and even that was badass. Unable to figure out, himself, how to operate the control panel before him, Keith offered his hand, helpful and polite like a human being and Lance was _at a loss_.

“How’d you do that?” Lance marveled, Keith’s hand having been enough to press into the keypad to shut the hangar door.

“I don't know,” Keith muttered, equally as surprised. “It just felt right.”

“You’ve just got a knack for being exceptional don't you?” Lance asked, without any permission from his brain as he tacked on his most joking smile. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.”

“Right,” Keith mumbled absently, taking off after him.

The way out provided more opportunities for stealth. Without a single word passed between them, they were able to seamlessly communicate battle tactics, Lance acting as the diversion while Keith provided the attack. To find himself surrounded by a sea of lifeless humanoid machines while standing next to a panting Keith sounded like something straight out of a stress dream, but it had the opposite effect of making him want to tackle missions with Keith more often, see what else they were truly capable of together.

“That went,” Keith huffed, half doubled over from the exertion of the fight, “Lance, that went perfectly.”

“Ah, but don't ruin it, Mullet,” Lance chastised playfully.

“No, really,” Keith continued, looking, albeit a little flustered, and that could, again, be from the fighting, but something hopeful in Lance hoped that that was only half of it. “You said-”

“Just spit it out, Red,” Lance drawled, taking the lead while Keith stammered around his thoughts. “We make a good team, right?”

“I,” Keith sputtered, posture going impossibly straight. He turned to face Lance who was walking backward and trying not to openly laugh at how Keith kind of looked like a malfunctioning machine. “Yeah,” he said, finally, breathing out a sigh that relaxed his entire body. He jogged a bit to catch up, then quickly matched stride. “Glad we finally agree on one thing.”

Mental dissertation on Keith-speak rendered entirely useless just this once, Lance shrugged. “Eh, it was bound to happen eventually, right?”

*

Halfway through his second semester came the dreaded monster assignment every upperclassman Lance had ever talked to warned him about, the only upside being that it was a group project. Lance always performed well on those. With twenty-five students in the class, they were split into five groups of five and left to their own devices.

Miraculously, in Lance’s group of five, he scored _Keith_ who looked right through him when he smiled at him. And Lance, who had no self-respect, thought, as Keith moved his desk to be catty corner to his, looked right past him into the deep, dark abyss as if he wasn't even there, that this was his _chance_. His golden opportunity to make Keith see him.

“I don't hear any talking,” their professor admonished from over the Playboy in his big, dirty hands.

“Right, okay,” one of the boys, Tommy, coughed out, glancing uncertainly around at all those in the group. “How do we wanna do this thing?”

Not that having to build a two-foot tall sustainable bridge (to teach teamwork and resourceability or whatever) would go without dilemma, but complete silence wasn't going to get them anywhere with this project.

“Okay,” Lance started, exercising his role as someone in a large family and taking the responsibility and initiative no one else around him was willing to. “How many of us can get supplies quickly?”

“I don't live too far from here,” Tommy volunteered. “My dad can bring us anything we need.”

“I can get my parents to ship us some things,” Lance offered, unprepared for such a quick and complete response.

“Nah, don't worry about it,” Tommy waved him off. “Just all of you guarantee us a good grade.”

“You fucking rock, Tommy,” Lance decided. He reached into his backpack then and pulled out his notebook. “So what are you guys thinking as far as how to build it?” He inquired. When, yet again, no one answered, he begin to inwardly panic. Sure this was all sudden, but people with no opinion were not ideal team members in a group project. “Okay, well my dad does this kind of stuff in his work,” he prattled, trying to keep it light. “I’m pretty good with tools.”

“Oh, okay, that’s cool,” Tommy nodded. “That’s great, my dad can bring us tools.”

“I’m pretty good with tools, too,” Keith added, his voice low and gravelly _and pulling Lance in_.

“Of course you are,” Lance squawked. “I,” he cleared his throat, tried again. “I guess we’re going to need a schedule, right?” He clicked his pen again and again, nervous at having Keith, speaking and saying words, with that voice, less than two feet away from him. “Tommy, how fast do you think your dad can have supplies here?”

“I’ll call him today,” Tommy shrugged, “he could probably have them here tomorrow if not the next day.”

“Awesome,” Lance murmured, writing that down in his notebook, even though it was simple to remember, even though it wasn't dire that they had the materials this soon, even though he didn’t really need to. He looked over to see Keith, staring straight past him, through the walls and into the horizon again. It pushed something down inside him and he straightened up. He knew the pattern by now, and that was that Tommy was the most helpful, Keith was the most capable and the other two were the most useless and that made him….

Well, now Lance was the most decisive.

“Well, we have this class three times a week at this time,” Lance mused slowly, “and we have just about every other class together and we’re all done by three. I think we should all get together this weekend and try to plan it out once we have materials.” He turned to Tommy, then. “I don’t want to tell you what your dad should buy,” he explained, “so you can decided what we build it out of?”

When no one objected, Lance clicked his pen out and scribbled out everything he’d said that no one cared enough to comment on.

“We have just over a month,” Lance continued thoughtfully as he looked over the handout. “But that means they expect us to go through a lot of trial and error so we’re probably going to have to rebuild this thing a lot, too. It’s gotta be able to support at least fifty pounds.” God.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Adam crowed, finally speaking only to say something entirely useless.

“Exactly,” Lance nodded along, nonetheless. “The group whose bridge supports the most weight gets a prize,” he read, rolling his eyes. It was such a Sanders’ tactic to pit his students against one another in competition to produce the best results. It was cheap but unfortunately effective. However, by way of prizes, Sanders always fell through. Lance scoffed. “God, it’s probably the Playboy in his hands.”

“Still wanna win,” Tommy chuckled.

Smiling, Lance clicked his pen again. “That’s the spirit.” He looked up from the handout, shifting his gaze to each group member. “So here’s the plan.” He turned to Tommy,  “When your dad brings the supplies up here, let me know because I wanna see what we’re working with. Then this weekend, we can-”

“I’m not gonna be here this weekend,” Keith interrupted bluntly. Lance hardly had time to let the disappointment sink in that he was going to miss out on out-of-class time with _Keith_ before he bit out, “if that’s okay with you.”

“If-” Lance paused, this feeling of impending conflict pressing down on him. “What’s that mean?”

“You know no one agreed to any of this, right?” Keith continued, too calm for how angry he looked. Calm like a storm was coming.

“No one’s disagreeing,” Lance countered.

“That’s not a good reason to barrel on ahead with something,” Keith glared. “And I’m disagreeing.”

“Well I mean, we can pick another day to get together, if that’s what you want,” Lance edged cautiously. “I can-”

“I just wanna know who put _you_ in charge of everything, that’s all.” He leaned further back in his seat, arms crossed and eyes unwavering as his scowl set.

“Whoa,” Tommy uttered, an uncomfortable chuckle following.

And Lance was _flabbergasted_ , to put it lightly. This was supposed to be the part in the movie where the devastatingly attractive bad boy with the attitude problem turned out to be simply misunderstood, not _exactly who he presented himself to be_. “Um, _you_ guys!” He answered, leaning forward across his desk, looking Keith right in the eyes. “When literally none of you had anything to say!”

“You could have asked,” Keith muttered.

“ _Seriously_?” Lance demanded loudly and on purpose. “Well, let’s hear _your_ ideas, then! What plans of yours was I trampling all over with my big mouth?” He vaguely registered Sanders calling out a faint “ _hey_!” but that was drowning somewhere under all the gravel in Keith’s voice.

“It’s the principal of the thing,” Keith seethed, leaning forward in his own seat.

Lance scoffed. “If you’ve got a point, you should get to it.”

“Okay then, chairman, my point is that none of us decided anything here today, _you_ did!”

“Again,” Lance hissed. “We all had tons of time to say literally anything, but all we know about you and your willingness to do anything at all is that you might be ‘good with tools!’”

“Hey, _hey_!” Sanders yelled, definitely louder, definitely clearer than before. A muscle in Keith’s jaw jumped and Sanders stood, showcasing the true and powerful authority he held as an adult figure viewing a porn mag in front of his students. “Break it up, guys, put the desks back! Since you can’t handle a little freedom, we’ll just have another lecture.”

The collective groan of a classroom was usually a bummer of a thing to hear on a regular day, but it was even worse when it was the direct cause of something you did. The other members of the group disbanded the alliance of their desks, but not Keith who looked right into him like he was trying to search him out and read him for information he could use against him later.

And Lance wanted to scoff and look away, jerk his desk back and sulk for the rest of the class, but he was stuck mirroring the same anger back to Keith that the dick was dishing out to him.

“Desks back now!” Sanders barked out again. “Or I’m sending you both to Iverson!”

“ _What_?” Lance exclaimed, shooting out of his desk. “But that’s not fair, this is all _his_ fault!”

“ _My_ fault!” Keith bellowed. “ _You’re-_ ”

“Iverson, now!” Sanders shouted. He pointed angrily at the door with the Playboy.

Groaning, Lance stalked out of the classroom with Keith hot on his heels.

Iverson was in a meeting when they reached the office. They were told to sit outside his office where they waited side-by-side in uncomfortable seats with no end in sight. Then Keith cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Excuse me?” Lance coughed out.

“I said I’m sorry,” Keith huffed, impatient and awkward. He crossed his arms and slouched in his seat and Lance’s chest seized up as Keith’s eyes found his, gaze steely and unwavering.

In place of asking what the hell that was all about back there and making it worse, Lance settled for, “It’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “Okay?”

Keith gave a slow blink, but nodded nonetheless, expression blank. “Okay.” But he still didn't look away and Lance couldn't help but _notice_.

Keith's eyes weren't purple, they were grey. And throughout all this, all of it - every glare, and shout, and scream, and threat, and deep underlying accusation, they had been squarely focused on him.

*

From then on, he wanted to get better. Better at fighting and strategizing and honing his instincts. In the beginning, he wanted to do it on his own, with the bots on the training deck. Soon enough they were all too easy to defeat, and since he was alone, he found himself wishing that he wasn't. That instead, he would turn, see helplessly wrecked hair and stony eyes standing in victory beside him….

So he asked Hunk.

He was busy with Coran, planning out the next planets to form alliances with since Allura wanted to give him a shot at diplomacy. Lance wondered immediately why they hadn't thought of that sooner. “Fine,” he conceded, feigning severe annoyance. “Stay here and do lame tactical stuff with Coran. I’ll find someone else.”

“Thanks, dude,” Hunk answered shortly, not even looking up from the map.

“Glad to see you taking more of an interest in your training, Lance,” Coran chirped out after him.

This led him to consult Pidge.

She was in the observatory, sitting against the wall, typing furiously on her laptop. “I don't want to train with you,” she told him, before he’d even opened his mouth to ask. “At least not today. I’ve got a lot to do.”

“That’s not even what I was going to ask,” Lance bluffed, stepping closer and peering down over her. “And what are you even doing, anyway? Hiding out in here away from the rest of us all day - _you_ could use the training, you know! Say one day we’re on a planet and we’re not Voltron and we’re _separated_ , and you’re alone and your only way out is through hand-to-hand combat, but you never-”

“Lance, just go ask Keith,” she interrupted. It should have been an innocent comment directing Lance to the one paladin left, but Lance knew better. He didn't know what point Pidge was making exactly, but there was definitely something she was getting at.

“Fine,” Lance said quickly, backing himself out of whatever shitstorm he had clearly been dumbly wandering himself into. “I will.”

“You do that.”

“I _will_.”

“You do that, Lance.”

_“I will, Pidge!”_

And that only lasted another few minutes before Lance realized that he was legally an adult trapped in an asinine _“nuh-uh!” “uh-huh!”_ argument with a fifteen-year-old who was not only fully aware, but was goading him on.

“You gonna grow up ever, Pidge?” Lance drawled on his way out of the observatory.

“I will when you do,” she lilted.

He found Keith in the kitchen area, sitting alone at the table with a spoonful of green goo on the way to his mouth. Unthinkingly, Lance gave no preamble. “Do you wanna go train?”

Keith sputtered at that, green food goo making an appearance at the top of his throat before he could get a hand to his mouth as he hacked, caught entirely off-guard right along with Lance, himself, since he truly hadn’t intended to ask just then. “With _you_?”

“It’s not that uncommon,” Lance glared.

“I was eating,” Keith explained, voice raw and watery, “And you never ask me to train with you. You ask everyone else to train with you, then settle for me when everyone else is too busy.”

“Well, yeah, that’s why I came in here,” Lance snapped, hip cocking out to the side in his frustration because it just _did_ that, “because everyone else _is_ too busy, so are you in or what?”

“Uh, alright?” Keith answered, voice lilting up at the end like he wasn’t entirely sure. He rose from the table to place his bowl of food goo into the kitchen area. “But I’m not going to go easy on you, Lance.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Mullet.”

“Look, lay off my hair,” Keith started, for arguably the thousandth time, “and I just felt like I should warn you. I’ve only been getting better and it’s not like I see you in there often.”

“That’s because we’re _rivals_ ,” Lance reminded him, condescendingly, voice also lilting up at the end because Keith should just _know_ by now, really. “I can’t let you know what I’m up to.”

Keith’s face did a funny thing where his lips twitched and his eyes went narrow and his brows furrowed and Lance thought _this. This is why I asked_. “Right,” Keith said, walking around him out into the hall, “well I warned you, so my job’s done.”

Lance hummed noncommittally, crossed his arms and followed Keith to the training deck. He followed Keith right into the center of the battle stage, watched patiently until Keith shouted out a command level for the fighting bots. “Whoa, whoa, we’re just jumping in?!”

“What did you want me to do, count down for you?!” But there was no bite in it. In fact, Lance was sure Keith was levelling him a playful smirk before charging at a bot just behind him. “Look alive,” Keith advised as the bot went sailing yards away.

“Right, right,” Lance nodded, readying his bayard. _Get it together_.

After that, after Lance steadied himself, he was able to let go - release the tension in his joints and his bones, the tension in his mind about Keith and allow himself to show his progress.

It was gratifying, to say the least.

Not once did Lance have to try to keep up with Keith. This time, they were simply on equal footing, every bit as well-timed and coordinated as on the Balmera. For every strike Keith made, Lance was right behind him, and Keith provided the same cover for Lance.

In equal rotation, they wordlessly switched between offense and defense until every last bot was downed and the simulation sequence ended. Panting and sweating, they powered down their bayards and before Lance could quip out anything brash and overconfident, Keith turned to him.

He dropped a gloved hand onto his shoulder and flashed him a half smile like the sun peeking out from behind a rain cloud. “It wasn’t just a fluke,” he breathed out, pleased and determined. “We could really have something here - some hell of a secret weapon.”

“Hell yeah,” Lance nodded, voice sounding just as excited before the weight and the gravity of Keith’s words, as well as his hand, sunk in on him.

“We should tell Shiro,” Keith continued, working himself up in a way Lance had never seen before.

It made him say “Sure. Yeah. Whatever you want.”

They kept at it after that. Training every day, getting used to one another, learning to read each other with little more than a glance at long range. Keith slowly began to smile more and Lance knew what each of them meant. His eyes set a certain way in training and Lance knew exactly where Keith needed him to be.

It worked vice versa, as well. “You did that thing with your shoulders you do when you don't have time to say where you need me to be, but you need me to get there,” Keith would explain with a simple shrug at Lance’s utterly scandalized expression as he tried to make sense of how Keith made it ten feet in two seconds flat without a hint from him.

They were a well-oiled machine. Utterly unstoppable in combat when they were together and completely invincible back-to-back with the world on the outskirts, and Lance was hooked so much more desperately than he had originally realized. If anyone asked, though, Lance would say that it was that first half-smile, that first admission of confidence in their ability as a team that truly did him in.

*

Lance’s roommate, Hunk, was a nice guy and as far as he knew, “Hunk” was the only name he went by.

They clicked instantly, bonding immediately over never having been away from home before, especially this far from. Hunk was from Hawaii, had only surfed twice, but not for lack of want, knew how to make leis easy and hated pineapple on pizza. He found it fascinating that Lance could eat twice his body weight and Lance liked showing it off when Hunk made pancakes.

Hunk had been best friend material since day one, but it became the official title the first time Lance stormed into their room ranting about Keith. Hunk not only didn't tell him to shut up, but actively listened.

The moment they heard about the sign-up sheet for roommate requests for the next year, they requested each other.

Weeks later, after the second year started, Hunk had hardly had two weeks before the Keith complaints were back in full effect.

To Lance’s credit, he had been entirely unprepared. Class had just let out and he was walking back to his room to grab Hunk for lunch when he _saw_ it. He was walking and minding his own business when he saw what had to be fucking impossible.

First of all, it was the fact that he was looking at Shiro Takashi in the underclassman hallway. Shiro, his _hero_ \- everyone’s hero, really, but still, he’d had just enough time to wonder what the hell he was doing _here_ , when.

God, when _Keith_ walked out of D-wing and right up to Shiro and Shiro. _Smiled_ at him. Then they walked away together and Keith looked _happy_. Before they turned the corner out of his sight, Lance saw Keith’s stoic face light up with a _laugh_ and the sound was something he knew he’d never forget and. And what the _fuck_.

What the fuck.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he stressed, holding out the “u” sound. “Shiro was out there waiting for Keith to come outta D-wing! He was waiting for him Hunk! And then when Keith came out, they smiled at each other?! And Keith _laughed_?!”

“What’s… wrong with that?” Hunk asked slowly, trying and failing to see why Lance was so distraught. The best thing about Hunk was that along with actively listening to him and never just telling him to shut the fuck up was never asking uncomfortable questions like “Why do you care so much?” “What does this mean for you, exactly?”

Lance couldn't recall a time he had ever been more blinded with emotion. “I’m just... shook,” Lance explained, for lack of a better phrase. Of course Keith was on friendly terms with the guy. Lance thought with war-time flashback gritty shots-fired intensity how good-looking Shiro was. And how Keith was. _Fuck_ , Keith was on another level and they were walking _together_ and _holy shit, what if_ – “The _fuck_ , how long has this been going on?!”

How had he _missed_ it?

*

The script flipped again to the tune of mixed signals, slight enough that Lance only noticed because of how much attention he’d taken to paying the Red Paladin. Their teamwork in the field and on the training deck remained strong, and even expectedly strengthened. They could do anything together now.

Except have a decent conversation without a combat-inductive prerequisite.

The moment their sequence ended and the sims went back into the floor, the moment they made it back to the hangar and exited their lions, it was all stiff waves and false smiles and _distance_. God the distance.

Lance had thought they were getting somewhere.

*

It happened twice more - Shiro waiting around in underclassman hallways for Keith and Lance thought that in another life he would have been a far more mature being who knew how to butt the hell out.

But as he entered Sanders’ classroom and saw Keith sitting, as usual, by the door looking passive and stoic and gorgeous, he knew he wasn't. “Hey,” Lance greeted casually, like they did it all the time.

In a show of how much they didn't, Keith looked up, from his desk, confused, and even more confused as to why Lance was standing over his. “Hey?” The _why are you talking to me?_ painfully evident in his tone.

“I,” the magnitude of how bad an idea this was pressed harder and harder down upon him the longer Keith gave him _that look_. But mama didn't raise no quitter and if there was one thing Lance never learned, it was how to shut up. “I saw you a few times.” Holy _shit_. “With Shiro Takashi, walking around. I see him waiting for you to get out of class. I… was just wondering how you knew him?”

Keith’s dark eyes widened in response and Lance had readied himself for anything other than a quirked lip and an onset of _dimples_. He quirked a thick, inky eyebrow and his lids set to half mast. Against anything Lance had expected after an intrusive barrage of questions like that, Keith didn't look angry, but rather strangely amused as his lips curled around a taunting question of his own. “Why do you care?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Lance hissed, realizing too late that it had been _aloud_ just as it set in that this had to be a _trap_ of some kind. Now that he was less dazzled by the entire total _gift_ of a smirking Keith, cheeks impressed upon with dimples and dark eyes heavily trained onto his own, he could sense the irritation in his voice and he was floundering to find an escape route. “I _don't_!”

Spell broken, shattered actually, Lance could see exactly how lethal Keith’s dark eyes had become and it made him shiver with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. Keith kept his sneer, uttered low and dangerous, “Then in that case, maybe don't ask dumb questions.”

Keith’s voice and his words, and everything about him in this moment shot straight to his chest and his veins and his bloodstream. It brought a heat up to his face and the back of his neck, then rolled _down_ in a sinful heatwave of shame and frustration and _betrayal_ at his own body and mind. Which continued further when his mouth said, entirely without him, as he quickly moved toward his desk: “ _You’re_ the dumb one,” like it was even _good_.

He saw, as he sat down, Keith roll those big dark eyes and promptly wanted to _perish_.

Now, after years of putting it off, at the top of his mental to-do list, above any and all aspirations having to do with Keith, above even, making fighter class someday, was learning to _shut the fuck up_.

*

His slight irritation with the Red Paladin only grew when passive distance became pointed avoidance, targeted only at him and Lance couldn't imagine what he could have possibly done.

If he entered a room, it wasn't long before Keith left it. If he stood next to him during one of Allura’s briefing monologues, Keith wound up yards away before the end of it. During meals he wouldn't look up from his food anymore. Not since the last time when he looked up right into Lance’s eyes, and he thought this wasn't _fair_. Keith couldn't just take this all away from him like it all only belonged to him. He couldn't rip it from Lance’s hands when he’d worked so hard for it, for Keith’s smile, for his gaze, for his companionship. At the very least, he deserved his honesty.

Against his better judgement, he went to Shiro who said exactly what he knew he would. “Sometimes he gets like this, but he’ll get over it. Just give him space and he’ll come around.”

“But why?” Lance had asked, call it whining and he’ll deny it. “Why is he getting like this now? We were getting along,” he admitted on a sigh.

“Lance,” Shiro took mercy, locking steely eyes onto his. “Look, this is really Keith’s business to tell, so just trust me, okay? It’s not really anything you did, it’s just Keith working things out. Just let him breathe and it’ll all be fine.”

“Well how long’s that gonna take?” Lance demanded, arms crossing over his chest of their own accord as he slouched in on himself in a heavy full-body pout.

Shiro looked at him then like he was seeing Lance for the first time. Lance secured his arms tighter around himself, self conscious of being read so easily, and about this no less. “Lance, I know you’re hurt-”

“Hey, nobody said anything about me being hurt,” Lance protested indignantly.

“But,” Shiro continued as if he’d never spoken. “The thing about Keith is that he is a test in patience,” he laughed softly. “Just let him come to you.”

Lance decided he didn't like Shiro’s tone, but he didn't have any other options. Until, that is, one presented itself later on in the form of Keith, as he saw from the brief two seconds it took him to pass the observatory deck doors and circle back undetected, in a glare off with Allura. Lance couldn't recall a single time he’d seen Keith even speak to the princess unless they were all together. He was at a loss at wondering what this could be about.

He heard Shiro’s voice somewhere in his mind telling him loud and clear to stay out of it. But then Keith actually raised his voice, biting out: “I thought you’d _want_ me to be prepared, Princess,” his outburst causing both Lance’s eyes to widen right along with Allura’s.

Allura’s blue eyes glazed over in a way that should have been immensely threatening but the Red Paladin did little more than square up. “I would rethink that comment if I were you,” Allura advised. However, she advised it in such a way that her posture also heightened to match Keith’s but in a much more deadly way. In the way of a full trained warrior while Keith was little more than a feisty flight cadet with combat instincts but little combat training.

Allura was about to offer a lesson no one here wanted to learn.

Thoughtlessly, Lance rushed in at the same time Coran did, who shouted out: “You will watch your tone with the princess!”

“Coran,” Lance eased, in the way one might to call off immediate impending doom as he stepped between Keith and the can of whoop-ass aimed right at him. “Keith didn't mean it.” He vaguely registered Keith’s affronted protest from behind him and felt him try to push him, but Lance remained steady. “He’s been overworking himself on the training deck. It won't happen again,” he promised, grabbing a struggling Keith by his arm and dragging him out of the observatory deck.

“Very well,” Coran conceded, sounding torn. “See that it doesn't.”

“Oh, it won't,” Lance called over his shoulder, voice back to cocky and charming now that Keith was safe. “Sorry again, Princess!” With that, he reached the hallway, ready to demand Keith tell him just what the hell exactly he thought he was doing, but he wasn't fast enough.

Keith roughly jerked his arm out of Lance’s grasp, shoving Lance back into the wall as hard as he could as a follow up. The glare he gave Lance levelled the ones he used to dish out at the Garrison. Could compete fully with the ones they both shelled out when Voltron brought them back together. Lance swallowed his breath. They were supposed to be long past this kind of hostility.

“Keith, I was just trying to help,” he offered by way of an apology, a symbolic white flag.

But Keith didn't want an apology. He almost never did. He was looking at him now like he wanted blood. “Well, I don't need your help, Lance!”

“I know you don't need it!” Lance yelled back, tired of being faulted for caring like this. “I saw you in trouble! What was I supposed to do?!”

Lance’s shoulders jolted back against the wall as Keith shoved him again. “Leave it to me! I can handle myself, do you hear me? I don't need your help!”

“Alright,” Lance muttered, face hard and stony as he glowered down at Keith. “Duly fucking noted.”

“Good,” Keith bit out, then turned sharply, heading down the hall. Lance decided he wasn't done yet.

“You know, what the fuck’s your problem, Kogane?!” He shouted after his retreating form, taking wide steps after him. “I thought we were finally getting along! You’re the one who wanted to go bragging to Shiro about how well we work together, so what changed?!”

Mid-stride, Keith froze, slowly turning back around to face him. “I’m gonna give you one warning, McClain: Back off.”

“I’m not scared of you, Keith,” Lance announced instead. “Actually, I think you’re the one that’s scared.”

Keith was seething as he stalked back toward him. “Lance, I swear to _God_.”

“So just what the fuck _are_ you so scared of?” Lance continued, because he had never known what was good for him. “You’re supposed to be the fearless Red Paladin of Voltron, but I think a lot of the time you’re just as scared as the rest of us, if not more! You were fine until you and me started working better together.” He gasped as it all clicked into place what was really happening. To stop talking never once occurred to him. “ _Fuck_ are you getting so cagey because you’re starting to _care_ about me? Because that’s not such a weird thing, it’s called human emotion!”

Taken aback as he obviously was, Keith wasn't about to show it, schooled by a sour glare. “Listen here and listen up good, Lance. I care about you just enough to make Voltron work and nothing more. You can stay the _fuck_ away from me outside of that.” Keith turned to leave again, but Lance felt venom coming up his throat like acid, lethal like poison.

“Right,” he drawled out, voice dripping disdain as his eyes dealt with the sight of Keith walking away from him after everything. “But that’s not what you were saying when I stumbled out of the cryopod. What about your precious bonding moment?” At that, Keith froze again, back strained as he stood, fists at his side and head lowered. “I thought you cradled me in your arms, Keith.”

Keith was back on him in an instant, glare matching his own, Keith looking even more upset that Lance’s signature smirk was nowhere to be found. Lance squared himself as Keith raised his right fist, drew it back in preparation, grabbed him by the front of his shirt when Lance didn't look scared enough.

“You got it in you, Keith?” Lance spat, keeping his eyes locked on Keith’s. If he went under after Keith kicked his ass, he was going down with his head held high calling Keith on his shit. “Do it.”

Instead, Keith crumbled, face going slack as the anger sapped out of him. His gaze dropped down between them as both his hands held onto Lance’s shirt like a lifeline and Lance almost apologized, but the Red Paladin brought his eyes back up, so full of pain and hurt and disappointment that Lance faltered. “ _Fuck_ you, Lance.”

This time, when Keith stormed away, Lance let him.

*

It took a lot of prayer and cosmic bargaining to suppress the mortifying experience of popping a boner in class because the stud of a lifetime said a few mean words in his low, raspy voice. Took twice as much effort trying to suss out whether or not Keith had _seen_.

However the world continued to spin on, the only noticeable change being that Keith had taken to sizing him up every now and again. Lance couldn't bring himself to resent having the brunet’s pretty eyes on him.

The special talent they had for taking the weakest of bate and succumbing to it to the most drastic of proportions never fizzled out once. It was a flame so destructive it could only be satiated - in class, anyway - by being forced to sit on entirely opposite sides of the room, never to be partnered up again.

That did nothing to quell them, however, during heated class discussions. It always started simple. Lance would raise his hand to answer a discussion-inductive question and all Keith had to do was raise his own hand and say: “ _Actually_ ,” then they were right back at it again.

And nothing, it seemed, could stop them. Not being kicked out of class. Not Iverson. Not even grade deductions. Keith opened his mouth and Lance couldn't _not_ clap back with everything he had, unable to see anything but the angry, red walls of his tunnel vision and Keith, furious and scowling, at the end of it.

And there was an utter plethora of features on him accentuated by the carelessness and passion of pure, unadulterated rage. Keith’s jaw, when he yelled, went all defined, clenched and strong and _sharp_. His nose scrunched upward at the center of his face, breaking between the heavy reddening of his cheeks, obscured sometimes, by wild, ravenette hair (grown too long, past his neck now) flying about as his head moved. But when Keith locked those purple-grey eyes onto his, wild with electricity and fire and _oh God._

Lance noticed a new look in Keith’s eyes when they fought like that.

*

His plans to wake up early and hit the training deck were dashed when Keith made it there first. Common sense told him to leave it, come back later on when Keith was done, but Keith was….

Keith was poetry in motion and Lance loved the fine arts.

He stood there, feet rooted to the castleship floor in the doorway as Keith valiantly destroyed, destroyed, _destroyed_. He took no prisoners, he had no mercy, he fought so hard it was the fact that the droids were Altean-made that convinced Lance he wasn't actually damaging them.

He wondered, momentarily, if the Red Paladin was attacking so fiercely to work off some his frustration at _him_. To take the fist he’d wanted to propel into Lance’s nose the night before and jam it some place more productive.

After all, it was why Lance was here, but who was Keith if he wasn't always one step ahead? And who was Lance if not always chasing? Even if he knew he’d never really catch up. Even if it went against his better judgement. Even when Shiro specifically told him not to.

At the Garrison, if Keith hit a wall, he took off. Lance only had one occasion in mind to account for that knowledge, but whether or not Lance had witnessed every single time Keith called it quits and took off, it was what Keith did. Hell, it was exactly what had happened the last time anyone saw or heard from him before he left the Garrison for good.

Voltron, despite the confusion and irritation of the beginning weeks, changed all that. It probably had more to do with the fact that it was damn impossible to take off anywhere that wasn't the spaceship they were all currently on rather than a conscious decision to handle hardships better, but Lance had noticed, had been pulled further in by the Softening Exterior of Keith Kogane.

“Progress” was a word Lance had always been apprehensive to consider, especially when it came to Keith since it was always too good to be true. Last night’s near fist fight was proof enough of that.

He fought like he lived: head-on and angry, fists poised up over a bitter mouth run by an acid tongue, but feet quick and poised to make a dodge. And when he dodged, that was it.

He was gone.

They couldn't even keep him at the Garrison. Lance fretted to think it, but when push came to shove, what really was there to keep him here? On the castleship? With Red? On this side of the wormhole that changed everything? Hell, even on this training deck?

Even if by some miracle, Keith stayed physically, what if he continued to distance himself emotionally until he was as good as gone? What was there, really to keep him somewhere Lance could reach?

One of the sims levelled a steady kick, higher than either of them had anticipated. In the split second it all unfolded, Keith was poised to duck, roll, and dodge, take a cheap shot at it from behind.

Instead, he braced himself for the impact and grabbed the leg. With the leg, heavy and certain in his grip, he dropped all his weight into swinging it around itself and hit the ground as he released it to sail free ten feet away.

He groaned, looking pained at the collision when another sim dropped from the ceiling. He saw the Red Paladin look off quickly, expectantly to his side, then groan again in frustration. One look and Lance knew exactly where Keith needed him to be. The sensation in Lance’s chest that told him to respond to Keith’s signals, that told him to jump in between any and all and _defend_ , pulled at his bones to run in, to do the exact opposite of “backing off.” But, valiantly, Keith jumped back up, looked a little forlorn to do it, but took them all down without even the use of his bayard.

He took them down head-on, angry, and hand-to-hand.

Lance felt a triumphant grin curve his face, never thought the word, but rather felt the sensation of progress.

Keith’s feet stayed still and calm under him, keeping him there and present to see it all through.

*

For a few days,  the material covered in class became more boring than usual. The mechanics behind wingspan strength became weather prediction, which could have been important, but remained uninteresting. Lance couldn't keep his eyes open, not that he was necessarily trying anymore.

Keith still took notes, still doodled that strange sign in the margins and filled it in with thick, black ink from his seat all the way across the room, thinking nothing to do with Lance.

Then, though they wouldn't be able to use it for another few weeks, they moved on to discuss the proper use of the simulator. As it was, the professors were trying to scare them out of making rookie mistakes. In Lance’s experience, this technique only made him choke up more, but he rolled his eyes and listened attentively with the rest of the class as Professor Carter read over the file of an unreported downed flight from twenty years ago.

“Now then,” Professor Carter cleared her throat as she finished the record. “What were the cadet’s biggest mistakes? Kogane?”

“Sure,” Keith said softly. But before he answered, his eyes slid over across the room to lock with Lance’s, then, lips quirking up in that smirk, he turned his full attention back to the front of the class. “The cadet failed to use a checklist. He barely looked over anything before he took off, so he couldn't have known what was wrong.” He turned suddenly mischievous dark eyes back onto Lance, smirked like he knew Lance’s chest went hollow. “He also wasn't paying attention to his radio because ATC would talked him through the fog so he didn't crash.”

Keith had been long finished speaking for seconds before Lance registered any of the words, eyes locked on the way his lips curled slowly around sounds, almost like it was intentional. He looked back up to dark, knowing eyes and felt frustration in his gut that forced his mouth open before he could think. “Checklists are _pretentious_ and a waste of time! Weather and ATC shouldn’t be all it takes to stop you if you know how to pilot your aircraft!”

Lance vaguely registered their teacher groan something along the lines of “ _How every time_?” under Keith’s exasperated, “That’s how you get CFIT!” Though he didn't look exasperated at all. He looked… wild, but in a good way. Like this was exhilarating.

It threw Lance off and he found himself at a loss for what to think, much less what to say. “If you’ve got half a brain, you’re not gonna run a perfectly good plane into the ground. I bet loads of people would value good instincts over your highfalutin _10-over-complicated-steps-before-flying-an-Aviator_ regime!”

“That’s enough!” Professor Carter screamed, stepping between their heated gaze. She turned furious eyes to each of them. “I swear to God, is there nothing you two can’t argue about?! One more peep out of either of you and I promise you’re done for the day and you won't be using the simulator!” With that, she turned and walked coolly back to her desk, revealing Keith clearly schooling his expression as his eyes darted back over to Lance, then he _winked_.

Lance blinked away the obvious hallucination, expecting to focus his gaze upon that familiar, sexy smirk Keith threw out so remorselessly, but he was only half right. It was the same smirk, but accompanied by, startlingly enough, a different kind of sexy. The kind of sexy that was actually inviting.

It struck him then, in his gut filled with extremely confused butterflies that Keith had to have been baiting him. From the moment Keith had been asked to speak, his eyes had been trained on Lance, waiting, expecting, _anticipating_ the regular groove of Lance being unable to resist opening his mouth.

As offputting as it should have been to be struck with the realization that _Keith likes fighting with me_ , his brain was letting him do little more than smile dumbly in response to Keith looking at him like _that_ and plan how to keep it happening.

*

Perhaps it shouldn't have, but it came as a shock when Keith wouldn't spar with him on the training deck anymore. Completely unsuspecting, Lance sauntered in as Keith was starting, but the moment they made eye-contact, Keith’s eyes went blank and he left.

There was no denying that it hurt.

It hurt so much that Lance couldn't be bothered with laughing it off, pestering Keith until he gave in, or even waiting for him to come around. He instead, felt himself shut down as well.

He felt fried and disposed of and so, completely useless.

Unfortunately, to date, there had never come a day Lance wouldn't at least try to save a clearly unsalvageable situation by making light of it. That something was wrong quickly became apparent when Allura, Coran, and the paladins joined together for dinner.

Keith walked in late, as usual, hair wet and framing his face like he’d just had a shower. Lance knew he had been training without him. The Red Paladin mumbled out an apology for being late. Rather than mercilessly ribbing at him like he usually would have, Lance remained silent, sighed as he moved his spoon around in his bowl of goo.

A sharp silence fell over the table.

Lance felt Pidge’s eyes on him. “Uh,” she started from beside him. “Did something... happen?”

“Pidge,” Shiro reprimanded.

“Lance?” She pressed regardless. At the sound of his name, he dropped his spoon into the bowl, feeling jittery and caged-in. Finally risking a glance up, everyone was looking at him. Everyone but Keith, anyway, who found more interesting stimulation in the hardened surface of the table and it stung that on top of everything, Keith wouldn't even _look_ at him.

“Why are you asking _me_?” Lance demanded, defensive and embarrassed.

“Because it involves you and you clearly know something,” Pidge explained, tone patient, but words much too intrusive for how Lance felt.

“This isn't my fault,” Lance snapped, heated and heavily targeted before he could stop it. “Not everything is my fault.”

“Keith?” Hunk asked. And only then did Lance realize he’d let his eyes wander to the paladin in question. “Is everything okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Keith said simply. Lance heard himself scoff.

“Boys,” Allura chimed in reproachfully. “This is important. It’s clear that something is wrong, why don't we all just talk about it? We might as well get everything out here together since we’re all meant to trust each other.” Allura, God bless her, was intelligent, thorough, and entirely clueless about personal emotions.

“She’s right,” Shiro paused. “I think. It’s easier to avoid miscommunication if we just handle it right now, right? We’ll just resolve whatever’s wrong and not let it affect us or Voltron.”

“Agreed,” Pidge nodded. “You two have been edging around each other for days. Go any longer and it’ll start to affect the rest of the team. Just have your spat and we’ll move on.”

“I don't want to do this,” Lance answered sternly.

“Well, you and Keith can leave and handle this,” Shiro compromised with finality, “but either way, you’re handling it today.”

Chancing a quick glance up at Keith, who looked like he didn't want to be in this room surrounded by their friends with him, much less out in a hallway alone with him, Lance knew their choice. “Fine. So,” he started, reflexes to be grandiose taking control, guiding him through how hopeless this all felt. “Care to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven't,” Keith huffed, arms crossing, eyes still trained on the table top.

“You could at least lie _well_.”

“What do you _want_ me to say?” Keith asked, exasperated, eyes finally leaving the table top to rest just above his.

“I don't want you to say something just to - just to make this stop, I want you to tell me what I did wrong!” There had always been something about Keith that made him entirely too honest. He could tell that Keith was just as surprised as he was about the blatant beg for reconciliation and he could only hope the vulnerability in his words was something he was internalizing rather than actually expressing.

“I,” Keith said it softly, almost like an apology. He dropped his gaze back down and Lance wanted to scream. “You didn't do anything wrong, Lance. It’s just… _me_. I didn't mean to make you feel like you did something, but I can handle it. Without you.”

“Goddammit,” Lance groaned, at a loss for how to feel, how to make Keith _see_. “You always _do_ this!”

Keith’s eyes were back up, face perplexed and defensive. “Do _what_?!”

“ _This_! You’re always shutting me out!”

“I don't owe you my life’s story, Lance!” Keith roared, quick and devastating like he thought it was something Lance wanted to hold over him, to use against him. “I don't owe you anything!”

It struck Lance like a door slammed in his face and he couldn't place where it was all coming from. “I didn't say you did! I don't-”

“But you _think_ I do!” Keith yelled over him. Purple eyes finally, finally jumped up to meet deep blues and they were _startling_. Deep, dark, and guarded, so guarded Lance didn't think he’d ever get through again. “You’ve been like this since the Garrison! Always following me around and bugging me even though I made it perfectly clear that I don't need your help! You don't have to try to fix me! I’m not your problem, I’m not your rescue case, I’m not a - a _project_ for you to pour your valuable resources into to reaffirm to yourself what a good person you are, Lance! I’m just fucking _fine_ on my own and nothing you _ever_ do is _ever_ going to make me _need_ you!”

Lance went hoarse as he took in Keith, standing now, leaned halfway across the table like he wanted to shake it into him, wanted to grip him hard with his nails and never stop _squeezing_ until the anger stopped.

“Keith,” Shiro started, voice forcibly calmer than normal, nudging himself into the side of Lance’s tunnel vision. Not that Lance could redirect it, eyes trained on Keith like any sudden movement might undo everything.

“I’m... _shit_ ,” Keith hissed, looking up immediately, eyes finding Shiro. His shoulders sagged like a ten-pound weight had been dropped onto him. Lance felt himself pushing himself out of his own chair before he registered the decision to do so. “I,” the Red Paladin stammered out. He looked up and when their eyes met, Lance saw something fragile _crack_ as pain and helplessness overtook the mask. “Mother _fuck_ ,” he hissed - an almost whimper, then he was gone, walking briskly from the room.

“Shiro,” Lance uttered helplessly, unable to take his eyes off the door once it slid shut hiding Keith away from him.

“ _Lance_!” Hunk yelled, voice so urgent, it jerked Lance’s attention onto him. “Go!” He ordered as Pidge pointed, arm fully outstretched, toward the door, expression taut and perplexed like she couldn't understand what he was still doing in this room.

Lance nearly tripped over a table leg on his way around it.

*

Shiro was there again, waiting for Keith outside of D-wing. Lance scurried across the hall, determined not to have to see Keith walk out and give that secret smile, turn those beautiful eyes onto his hero.

There wasn't much that could ruin Lance’s appetite or even off his upbeat disposition since he had been on his way to grab Hunk from their room to hit the mess hall, but today, seeing Shiro there made his chest ache.

He ran out of energy like a steadily depleting storage battery, put conscious effort into not dragging his feet on his way to his room. Soon enough, however, the hallway cleared out and everyone was at lunch while Lance worked up the energy to keep walking and put on a smile and lie to Hunk when he got there.

Then Shiro passed him on his right. He was tall, broad, heroic-looking, and alone.

Alone.

He was _alone_.

 _Where’s_ \- Lance turned abruptly, freezing at the sight of Keith, leaning against the wall exiting D-wing. “Keith.”

“Hey,” he drawled, pushing himself slowly into a sauntering, calculated walk toward him, each step sending a spike of nervousness up Lance’s spine as he backed away. “Looking for someone?”

Lance swallowed, glancing around him and seeing that they were, in fact, completely alone. It scared him. “What were you doing just now?” He asked instead. “Waiting there for me to see you?”

“Yes,” Keith answered unexpectedly. He kept advancing on him, step-by-daunting- step.

“W-what the fuck for?” Lance demanded, skepticism overcoming his apprehension. He was sure that at any moment, he’d wake up in his bed and Hunk would tell him he’d been sleep-talking again. “What the fuck are you doing-?” Then his back hit a wall. He looked over his shoulder to be sure. Definitely a wall. And Keith was still advancing.

Then Keith was right there, right up on him, so close Lance could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. And he wanted. “ _Wow_ ,” Keith said lowly. He was so close Lance could feel his breath on his face when he spoke, puffing out against his chin since Lance had him by about two inches. “Your eyes are really blue.”

He felt his motor function go. “Arugh?”

Keith breathed out a small laugh that Lance felt, lips quirking up to the side in that smirk as he blinked slow, hypnotizing. “Like what people always say the ocean looks like, or the ring right around the moon.”

“Uhhm.”

He blinked again, those lashes casting thin shadows across his cheeks and his tunnel vision went red for a different reason. “It’s my favorite color, actually,” he confessed, words slow and deliberate and Lance watched his tongue. “Blue.”

“Oh,” Lance garbled, feeling his extremities go mysteriously numb as he tried to quiet the sirens blaring in his head. “I didn't know that.”

“Not many people do,” Keith answered, getting, somehow even closer. Lance felt his head hit the wall, and still Keith followed.

“And why,” Lance cleared his throat. “Why do I get this inside info?”

“Keep thinking along the lines of ‘inside,’” Keith smirked, purple eyes coming to life at the word, teeth revealing themselves against his lips, “and you’ll see.” He brought his hands up to rest against Lance’s shoulders and they were warm over his shirt. He felt the tingle through his body.

Lance swallowed, thick. “What the hell,” his voice wavered, embarrassingly. He tried again. “What are you doing?”

Keith was so close, the tips of their noses touched and every one of Lance’s nerves fried. “Giving you what you want.”

“And that is?” Lance managed.

“Me.” Then he kissed him, firm and hard, square on the mouth, bruising, insistent and so very _Keith_. He pulled away with mischief in his eyes. “This.” Then he went back in, this one deeper, as he ran his tongue along Lance’s lips. He pulled away again and _grinned_ , smug bastard. “Right?”

And Lance fucking _whimpered_ , “Oh, _fuck_ yes,” he moaned out.

It was all a whirlwind of motion from there - from Keith grabbing his hand in his, to them rushing as sneakily as they could through the halls, to Keith shutting and locking the door to the supply closet behind them.

Then Keith was back on him, stronger, hungrier than before. He pressed their bodies flush against each other, wrapping his arms tight around Lance’s shoulders like he didn't want to let him go.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Lance hissed against his lips, “You know how fucking hot you are?”

“I know how hot _you_ think I am,” Keith breathed out hard, then his tongue was back in Lance’s mouth before he could work out the complications of what _that_ was supposed to mean. Then Keith was reaching down, unfastening Lance’s belt.

“Whoa, there, you got somewhere else to be?” Lance managed.

“Don't wanna get caught,” Keith answered against his mouth. “Wanna get at least a good ways into it if we do anyway. ‘Cause if we do get caught, I’m not stopping.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lance whimpered, not aware of removing their clothes until they were gone. “I’m dreaming, I’m totally dreaming.”

“Hm?” Keith hummed. Now that their eyes had adjusted to the dark, Lance could make out Keith’s white teeth. “Dreaming about me something you do a lot?” he lilted teasingly.

“Yes,” Lance admitted, dumb and admittedly love-struck.

“What?” Keith breathed out, sounding surprised and even a little sad. He scoffed. “Well, I’m not what most people call a dream, more like a nightmare. More like a problem.” Then he uttered a low laugh that wasn't working on Lance.

Lance’s arms shot out around Keith’s waist (smooth and soft and free, beautiful skin under his hands) “Keith, you’re a fucking dream come true.”

“Shut up,” Keith snapped, a little angrier than what either of them expected. Quickly, as if to cancel it out, he thumped Lance in the nipple who shouted, shocked and betrayed. “Come on, we doing this or what?”

“Yeah,” Lance said quickly, deciding then that right now his priority was keeping Keith here in his arms. Later on, he could suss out what had just happened. “Yeah, of fucking course.”

“Okay,” Keith said, the smirk evident in his voice. He wrapped his arms back around Lance’s shoulders and hauled himself up, long, strong legs wrapped around his waist and Lance hoped he could survive this. “Like this.”

So Lance had him, Keith Kogane, the boy of his dreams, in his arms, beautiful and sexy and everything he’d longed for against the supply closet door. He thought that in a perfect world, they’d never have to leave, never have to face the consequences of what they were doing.

Lance latched his mouth to Keith’s neck, wanting to mark him and claim him, leave him something so every time he saw it he thought of him. “ _Fuck_ ,” Keith groaned out. “You’ve done this before,” Keith breathed out voice wrecked and ragged. “You’re like, really good.”

“Not helping to convince me I’m not dreaming,” Lance warned against his throat.

“Definitely thought I was defiling a virgin,” Keith let out a soft laugh that turned into a moan when Lance bit down extra hard. Then he wouldn't stop moaning so Lance kissed him, swallowed them down.

And Lance felt like he could do this with Keith forever. His body though, the traitor, was just about done. And as appreciative as he was to the heavens above for letting him have this with Real Keith, there was one thing he knew he needed from Dream Keith. “Can you open your eyes?”

“What? Why?”

“They’re just… really pretty,” Lance admitted, trying for all the world not to sound bashful, accomplished only because they were on the literal tail end of sex.

When Keith opened them and peered down at Lance, he looked confused for all the world why he was doing this, but his eyes remained locked, unwavering on Lance’s like he wanted this, too.

“Don't look so tortured about it,” Lance huffed, “you get to look at mine, too.”

Lance’s chest swelled with pride when Keith emitted the most genuine laugh he’d ever heard from him. It, too became a moan as they finished together and through it all, Keith kept his eyes on Lance’s.

Lance set him down, both of them breathing hard and uneven against each other. After a moment, they quickly got dressed, wanting to beat the bell signalling the end of lunch. “Alright, how do I look?” Lance asked, pulling at his uniform. “Everything _straight_?” He cracked, turning to find that Keith was already looking at him.

Keith was still looking at him.

“You look fine,” Keith said quietly. “How about me?”

“You’ve never just looked fine,” Lance told him.

Keith offered a weak smile, then turned and jerked the supply closet door open. Lance followed like he was tied to him.

“Keith,” Lance called out, whisper-yelling. “Hang on!”

Like Lance had flipped a switch in him, Keith halted, turned slowly to face him. His face was unreadable, a little apprehensive at best as he trained his eyes back onto Lance’s.

Lance felt himself sigh deep from this pit in his chest that felt utterly weightless as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly, slowly to Keith’s cheek. “Uh,” he grinned sheepishly as he pulled away. “I don't know what to say now.”

Crimson spread across Keith’s face like Lance had just triggered it and Keith probably hated it, but flustered was a good look on him. He cleared his throat, mouth down in a frown. “I have to go. To class.”

“Right,” Lance nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Me, too.”

“Okay.” Keith was still looking at him.

“See you,” Lance said. It was a promise, a reassurance that he and Keith would be different now.

“I… yeah,” Keith nodded, eyes wide.

Reluctantly, Lance pulled himself away from the other boy. Heading down the hall, he couldn't stop himself from turning back every few seconds or so to see Keith, still staring into the distance, standing in the same spot.

*

“Keith, buddy!” Lance called out, running as he saw him turn the corner. “Hang on, please?”

“Are you seriously doing this, Lance?” Keith yelled, walking toward his room. “Just leave me-”

“Don't you _dare_ tell me to leave you alone.” Lance snapped. “What did you mean back there? About you… not needing me? About me trying to fix you? Because I’m not. I don't think of you as broken.”

Surprisingly, Keith stopped. He stopped dead in his tracks but kept his back to him. “What do you want from me, Lance?” he asked. He asked it in such a tone, Lance paused, before quickening his pace to reach him. He sounded downtrodden and sad and completely hopeless.

“I _don't_ ,” Lance scoffed, walking around so they were face to face. Keith’s face was lowered, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “I don't want anything from you, Keith. I just want to work this out.”

“ _Why_?” Keith demanded loudly, jerking his head up to send him an icy glare.

“Because, Keith!” Lance shouted back, glad to be getting something out of him, just not this. “Because we’re a team and we have to work together! Because I’m tired of you not trusting me! Because - because this has to stop somewhere! I mean, I know we’re rivals, but-”

“Lance, we’re not rivals!” Keith interrupted him expressively but he was screaming it furiously into his face and, at this point, it kind of _felt_ like they were.

“Then why the fuck are you acting like this?!”

“I don’t know what to do, Lance!” Keith exploded, eyes alive with fire and fury. “I really fucking don't!  You’re always there! All the time! I mean, all of you are, we live on this ship together, but _you_! _Especially_ you - you’re _everywhere_ and I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to act when you notice everything I do all the time, and I just - _fuck_ , I’ve never been – I’ve never had anyone pay attention to me like this before, okay?!” He exclaimed, like it had been forced out of him. He took a deep breath. “I’ve… never had friends, really.”

Lance froze, mind gone momentarily blank. “What?” he breathed. He felt like shit because goddammit, Keith really had been trying and here Lance was thinking it was some complicatedly underhanded way for the Red Paladin to get under his skin. Despite everything he thought he knew before, he knew Keith a little better now. This Keith, at least he was fairly certain, wouldn’t purposely play with his emotions.

He brought his attention back to Keith to try to console him, to tell him that none of that mattered, nothing in his past mattered if that was the thing driving this wedge between them. But then he saw Keith’s face. He looked mortified, like he’d willingly drop off the ship into space rather than continue this conversation.

He set his jaw, looked up into Lance’s eyes with murder in his own. “Let me into my room.”

“Keith, please,” Lance tried, allowing Keith to back him away from his door. “Why can't you just trust me?”

“For the love of God,” Keith growled out. “I shouldn't have let you stop me. Believe it or not, that thing about being totally pathetic and never having any friends wasn’t supposed to come out.”

“Keith, I don't think you’re pathetic,” Lance said, levelling him a heavy glare. “I’d never think that.”

“Lance just stop!” Keith exclaimed, stepping into his room. “Stop saying things like that, okay? Go away before I say something worse.” Then the doors shut abruptly in Lance face. Sadly, he leaned against it, heard Keith mutter aloud to himself. “I have to stop _talking_ in front of him, _fuck_.”

It sent an electrical current through his chest that had him raising his fist to knock until Keith let him in when something caught his wrist. He knew it was Shiro before he turned around.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Shiro asked in a knowing tone.

“He keeps shutting me out,” Lance answered. “He just _literally_ shut me out. I think he thinks that if he keeps… shoving me away, then I’ll just give up, but I won't. I’ll do fucking anything….”

Shiro sighed, like he wished he could fix this for him, but just couldn't. “Come on, Lance. Let him breathe. And this time when I say ‘let him breathe,’ I mean it,” he smiled diminutively.

Appreciative for the comfort, Lance smiled back, though he didn't mean it. Shiro dropped a guiding arm around his shoulders, leading him reluctantly away from Keith.

*

In class, they were discussing proper techniques to use in the simulator, since they would finally be allowed to use it in the coming weeks, though the simulators didn't generate nearly as much excitement anymore compared to the buzz about Shiro Takashi and Matt Holt’s mission to Kerberos. “Get good enough at the simulator,” Sanders drawled, “then you, too, can one day pilot a flight to some far off moon.” He was an asshole like that.

Lance was going out of his way to ask irrelevant, and even ridiculous questions and Keith wouldn't look up from his desk. After the third or fourth annoyed side glance from a student who wasn't Keith, Lance decided to give up on that route. Class dragged slowly on, Keith took notes, and Lance doodled big, dark eyes in the margins of his notebook paper.

Lance anticipated, had his things already packed to go, when class was dismissed and Keith darted out the door. He saw Keith disappear around the corner just as he exited the room. Groaning, he took off in a mad sprint, accidentally obstructing other students with his long, gangly limbs.

“Hey, Keith!” he called, as he tracked him down outside of D-wing. At the sound of his name, he halted, bag slung over his shoulder. Slowly, he turned to face Lance, lip doing something funny when he saw Lance speed up.

Students milled around them in a sea of faces until they were left mostly alone as the lunch period began.

“Keith,” Lance started, softly, cautiously, but undeniably happy to see him, to be looking at him. “Hey.”

“Lance,” Keith said, looking up at him, face an enigma. “Hey.”

“Me and my buddy, Hunk, are gonna grab lunch at the commissary,” Lance started, staring surely into Keith’s apprehensive eyes. “You wanna come, too? He’d probably be delighted to meet you.”

“Why?” Keith puzzled.

“I mean, I don't know,” Lance answered, too quick, shrug overdone. “You’re popular around this place and _maybe_ I talked about you a lot. But it was back when I thought we hated each other!” Lance explained.

It appeared hardfought, but a small smile carved Keith’s face. “You don't still talk about me, do you?”

“What, you want the truth?”

Something flashed in Keith’s eyes and his smile dropped. Voice sad and alarming to Lance who was having trouble reading all the mixed signals. “Pretty sure I can figure it out.”

Lance cracked a grin. “So, you in?”

“You just… want me to have lunch with you today?”

“Yeah, if you want to?” Lance reiterated, Keith’s confusion at his simple invitation going far beyond him. “Or any day, really. Or we could do other things. You could hang out in our dorm with us and play some video games. Or,” Lance paused, a little nervous, but determined as he held Keith’s gaze. “The two of us could go into town over the weekend and maybe catch a movie? If you wanted.”

“Do you just wanna fuck again?” Keith blurted out, brows set in determination. He watched Lance like he was trying to figure out the right answer, trying to decipher a hidden message.

Lance startled, caught off-guard. “Um. _Yes_?” he answered honestly. “But also-”

“Because we could just fuck,” Keith continued, suspicion turning to something else. Something more guarded and _frightened_. “Right now, if you want, but you don't have to do… _this_.”

In a tidal wave of realization, Lance was suddenly dragged under by the gist he refused to believe Keith was getting at. “ _This_ being…?”

“ _You_! Trying to… I don't know! Win me over?” Keith puzzled, expression confused like he was trying to work it out himself as he spoke. “Because we can fuck any time you want. Really, I’ll just give you my number, but we don't have to play this game, okay?”

“What?” Lance shook his head, confusion becoming a strange type of pity. “But I _want_ to do this, Keith. This isn't about just… that. I mean I liked it - holy motherfuck did I like it, but you gotta know I want more than just that.”

“ _Why_?” Keith demanded, looking confused and a little disgusted, like Lance’s words were truly lost on him. Like Lance had just lapsed into Spanish and Keith was trying to figure out why.

“Keith, I fucking like you, dude,” Lance said, deliberate and candid so as not to be confused by whatever was going on in the other boy’s head. “I actually really, really, _really_ like you, and it’s okay if you don't like me back, but I thought maybe we could at least be friends.”

“You like me.” Keith’s eyes were wide and confused as he looked up at him from under furrowed brows. His hair was in his face and Lance fought the urge to push it back, brush his fingers against his skin.

“Yeah. I do.” Lance insisted, trying to keep it together, trying to keep _this_ together. “And that means, I wanna hang out with you, and spend time with you, and argue with you in class, and go out on dates with you. And kiss you and hold you and look at the fucking stars with you _as well as_ have amazing sex with you.” He took a small step forward, trying for a casual smile that probably came across more like a wobbly plea than anything confident. “So what do you think?”

Keith went rigid. Arms stiff at his side and shoulders straight like he was afraid what he might do if he moved a muscle. “I….” His eyes were dark and wide, unwavering above pink dusted cheeks and a parted mouth Lance couldn't look away from. “I’m not,” his lips said, then stopped and tried again. “You’re just a good guy,” he tried to explain. “One of those really nice people who tries to… tries to _defend_ someone like me, but _I’m-_ ” his voice broke off and he shook his head slowly, looked up at Lance like he’d never understand. “I’m not all that hungry. You and your friend can go to lunch without me.”

“Keith, buddy-”

“I’ll see you in class,” he said over him, already walking down the hall.

“Keith!” Lance called out as Keith turned onto another hallway. “ _God_ ,” Lance hissed to himself, slouching as he brought his hands up to his face. The more he engaged with Keith the less he understood him, the higher Keith stacked the walls.

Keith was beautiful, unbelievable, irresistible and _guarded_. More guarded the more you pushed.

And Lance was a fighter. He knew what he wanted and he was almost certain Keith might have wanted to same thing. He wasn’t going to let this stop him. He wasn't going to give up on Keith.

*

Giving Keith space was one of the hardest things for Lance to do on a castleship of only seven people, but it was Shiro’s earnest advice (that he had ignored previously in favor of making everything worse) so he managed.

He told himself that it was just a bump in the road. That it would work itself out eventually. They couldn't really stay like this until they took down the Galra Empire - something had to give and according to Shiro, that thing would have to be Keith. In the meantime, training was going along well enough. There was no gravitational pull directing him like waves responding to the moon, or electric current zig-zagging in his chest when he sparred with Hunk or Pidge.

He was coming to accept that no one else _would_ do that for him - give him that _feeling_ of familiarity and almost giddy confidence in a battle. Even if they were his very best friends, at best, Hunk and Pidge offered him the security of knowing he wasn't alone out there.

He found, however, that he couldn't just settle for that. Not when he’d had an angry red driving force at his side with his excitement for the challenge, his take-the- galaxy-over-and-do-it-laughing disposition. Who was strong and sure behind him, and always had his six, the same way Lance had his.

Lance tried not to think about it, tried to make due with the hand he’d been dealt. He was supposed to be meeting Hunk on the training deck and the last thing he wanted was for his involuntary feelings about being gypped to somehow come across to him.

However, Keith was there waiting, impatient and irritated on the training deck when Lance entered the room. He turned at the sound of the doors opening, scowled when he saw it was only Lance. “What are you doing here?”

Lance glared, upset the Red Paladin couldn't even play nice. “I’m here to meet Hunk, don't worry your pretty little head.”

“No, that’s… that’s weird,” Keith remarked slowly, brow quirking as he looked at Lance. “I’m waiting on Pidge.”

Lance stared blank-faced at Keith a beat, then groaned dramatically. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Then the maze was activated. Lance whipped his gaze over and up to the control room. “Hunk!” He screamed. “I swear to God I can’t believe you would stoop to this!”

“Are you really surprised?” Keith drawled.

No, he wasn't really. And he knew Hunk wasn't alone. He knew Pidge had to be sitting up there right next to him, snickering and taunting and just being generally annoying about it all. “Hunk! Pidge!” He bellowed. “What the fuck do you think you guys are getting at with this bullshit nineties sitcom stunt?!”

“It’s an oldie, but a goodie,” Pidge crooned over the speaker. “You two have been acting ridiculous for weeks. Sort it out and the maze is gone. Don't and we will not hesitate to let you sleep here tonight. Pidge out.”

“Good luck guys,” Hunk chimed in, sounding far too cheerful.

Lance clenched his fists. “ _Pidge, you little gremlin!_ ” He knew it was intentional when he heard her laughter. He sighed long and deep, trying in vain to push out with it all his frustrations. “Keith,” he started. He turned to face him, only to find the space now vacant because Keith was already ducking through the maze. It made Lance furious all over again. “Really, Keith?!” He demanded, long-gated stride carrying twice the distance in half the time. “Are you seriously running from me?! Again?!”

“I’m _not_ ,” Keith whirled around, face an enigma and hands clenched into fists at his sides. He took a deep breath, ”I’m not running from _you_. I’m just. Running.” Okay, so he was running _and_ lying.

Lance scoffed. “Okay,” he allowed, deciding against starting another unnecessary argument. “Well, could you maybe _not_ do that, just this once? Because in case you missed it, they’re not letting us out of here unless we fix this.”

“Okay, well how do you propose we do that?” Keith snapped, folding his arms across his body as his frown deepened.

“Well, we could _start_ ,” Lance smiled sardonically, “with you fucking talking to me.”

Keith scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing this with you, Lance.” He dropped his hands back to his side and turned to leave.

Lance had had it. “You’re still going to run?! Is that all you do is fucking _run_?! This is the fourth time you’ve made me watch you leave, Kogane! You do this again and I’ll never stop thinking there’s some deeply intimate reason I’m such a fucking _threat_ to you!”

Keith froze mid-stride. “Fine,” he hissed. He turned a glare upon Lance, walking slowly back to him. “We’ll fucking do this the hard way.”

“Listen,” Lance sighed, trying to sound as calm and level as possible. “We just keep misreading each other. Past be damned, we’re a team now, so you gotta start shelling out some honesty.”

“Me?” Keith challenged, physically taken aback. Lance followed the motion as if he might flee. “Why not _you_? _You_ shell out some honesty!”

“Well, I’m not the one always _running_ , Keith!”

“Fine!” Keith yelled out, as if to stop Lance talking. “Fine,” he said more softly. “I meant it earlier, when I said that I don't know what I’m doing. With you.” He looked up then, big dark eyes full of pain and absolute terror. He shook his head at the sorrowful look in Lance’s and took a step back. “I _can't_.” He turned and began to stalk through the maze.

Lance was acting before he could think about it. “No the fuck you don't!” And he was running after Keith, tackling him to the ground.

“ _Ow_!” Keith bellowed, struggling to get free, but Lance only held on tighter. “Lance, what the _fuck_?!”

Lance positioned himself evenly over Keith’s back, legs stretched over his shoulders with his feet rooted to the ground on either side of his head. He braced his arms out against the floor to Keith’s sides and tried not to snicker the more Keith squirmed. “I meant it too. You are _done_ ,” he emphasized, “running from me.”

Lance felt him stop breathing, until finally, it all came out in a deep sigh. “ _Fine_! Fine - just - _God_ , I’ve never had a family, okay? I don't… _know…_ where my parents are,” he started, seeming to have an easier time talking now that Lance couldn't see his face. “I was sent into foster care when I was really young. I don't really remember anything before that. The families I stayed with never kept me for very long. They sent me back within four or five months. The only thing I had that was truly _mine_ is my knife and even that was hell to hang onto.

“I was twelve when I was moved to the Shirogane’s. Shiro was seventeen and he was going to be a space cadet and that was the coolest shit I had ever heard. Shiro was the coolest person I met in the foster system. He just… liked me. He cared what I did; he cared if I was okay.”

Lance forced himself to speak when Keith stopped. “But then?” he prompted.

“Then, I got the boot again,” Keith spat, coming alive and bucking Lance off him. Lance landed with a muffled groan on his back and found Keith hovering over him as he caught himself from landing on top of him. Keith bristled above him as his eyes went wide. He scrambled away as Lance drew himself up across from him. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“No, it’s-”

“I don't know what I did to make them get rid of me,” Keith continued, like he couldn't stand the embarrassment of Lance having seen so close into his eyes. He spoke into his bent knees. “But I thought… I thought maybe Shiro hated me, too. I didn't get to see him before I was taken away. He was away at the Garrison. And soon I was with another family whose kids didn't like me half as much as Shiro did. And I guess I never forgot Shiro.” Keith chanced a glance up and darted his eyes back down when he saw the eagerness in Lance’s.

“Keith, you were a kid,” Lance said softly. “You didn't do anything. They were just assholes.”

“You don't know that,” Keith snapped. “You know me. I’m a fucking handful. But back then, after I met Shiro, I didn't care. Space sounded a lot better than stupid Earth with stupid people, anyway. I wanted to go to the Garrison. None of my foster families would have helped me do that, so I did it on my own and got a full ride there. I just had to get there and it wasn't easy, but I found a way.” Lance briefly recalled Keith slinking into orientation late, stoic and beautiful and _lonely_.

“All alone?” Lance marveled.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed out. “More or less.”

“Shit. Keith, I’m so sorry.”

“Don't do that,” Keith snapped, angry eyes rising to glare at him. “Don't pity me. I’m not some poor, fucked-up orphan. I’m still Keith, even though you know this about me now.”

“Keith,” Lance breathed out, shaking his head in disbelief as he scooted himself closer to the Red Paladin. Lance crossed his legs and rested a hand over Keith’s atop his drawn up knees. “I don't think any less of you,” he promised. “I just want to know you.”

Keith’s eyes widened as he slowly withdrew his hand from under Lance’s, slowly lowered his knees until they were crossed like Lance’s. He could see in his eyes that he wanted to run, but he stayed, anyway. Lance didn't chase his hand.

“I didn't think Shiro would still be there,” Keith rushed out quickly, dropping his gaze onto Lance’s knees. “And when he was, I didn't think he’d remember me.”

 _Who could forget you_? Lance thought.

“But he did,” Keith continued, a small smile tugging at his features. “And he told me he didn't know about me being gone until he came home for break and that he was really upset. He said he used to send out prayers for me,” he said slowly, like it was something he was hesitant to share, but looking into Lance’s eyes seemed to reassure him. “He said he was glad he could see me again. You know, I’d never had that,” he admitted.

_I was glad to see you again._

“Then, he was gone,” Keith ground out, like he still felt the pain of it. “Not found on Kerberos. Not found anywhere. And no one would tell me anything.” He looked up into Lance’s eyes, gaze hard and stony. “Ditching the Garrison and finding answers on my own was the best thing I ever did. The Garrison would have just kept him there, like a prisoner and run test after test after test. He would have been miserable.” He looked down again, eyes softening. “But now we have Voltron and he’s free and I got to get off that stupid rock where no one missed me.” He scoffed. “Voltron is the closest thing to a family I’ve ever had and I don't want to mess that up because of _you_.”

“ _Me_?” Lance demanded. “What did _I_ do?”

“You barely have to do anything at all,” Keith admitted, frustrated. “I’m not used to anyone but Shiro being this… _interested_ in me,” he explained, cheeks reddening sure and steady. “You never stop. You always see me, and you always… look for me. It makes me anxious how long it’ll be that way.” He turned sad eyes onto Lance, as his voice softened. “In my experience, nothing stays.”

Lance could only stare, awestruck and sad and hurt that this was the life of the boy he loved so much. Keith looked like Lance might get up and leave him at any moment, and an idea struck him, then. Something he used to do to calm Sofia down when she was upset.

He reached out, slowly connected his hands with Keith’s shoulders and ignored the look of surprise when he gently pushed him onto his back. “Hey!” Keith protested. “What was that for?”

“I grew up in a family of _thirteen people_ ,” Lance started, lying down beside him. He held his gaze, not wavering even against Keith’s obvious confusion. There were no stars to look at like there usually were with Sofia, but he made do. “I’m somewhere in the middle. Had just about the same number of older siblings as younger siblings. You think _I’m_ loud - it was always loud around the house. I had to be loud to get noticed and I guess it stuck.” He chuckled absently.

“You’re telling me you’re not even the loudest?” Keith muttered.

“Shut up,” Lance snapped, turning onto his side while Keith stayed on his back, head turned toward him. “My point is, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be - having a big ass family. I’m not lessening what you’ve been through, I promise. I’m just saying, as far as being surrounded by a family you have to be in rather than a family you chose doesn't mean you fit there all the time, either,” Lance sighed. “You don't all like each other, because these aren't your friends, they’re people who only have blood in common with you. I have a few uncles and aunts I can't stand because they’re shitty people. Even me and some of my siblings aren't that close because we’re just not that compatible as people.”

“But you love them,” Keith argued.

Lance paused. “Yeah. I do. I love them more than the universe.”

“That’s what I want.”

“Keith,” Lance breathed out, feeling helpless. “That’s what you _have_. I’ve been trying to give you that since the Garrison.”

“No,” Keith’s face flushed and he shut his eyes a bit longer than a standard blink. He turned onto his side, body stressed and tense. “You were trying to make me _need_ you! And the minute I did, you would have changed your mind once you got to really know me! I would have woken up one day to you wanting nothing more to do with me.”

“I was trying to _date_ you,” Lance corrected knowingly, “because if anything, _I_ need _you_. And believe me, I had no intentions of going anywhere.”

“You would have gone away, Lance,” Keith assured him. “I push people away. There’s just something about me that makes people back the fuck away.”

“And yet,” Lance drawled, risking a small smirk as he reached for Keith’s hand. This time, Keith didn't pull it away. “I’m still here. Despite you pushing me, and blocking me out and literally running from me, I’m still here, Keith. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

Keith revealed a slow, involuntary grin as he looked down at the hands between them. Lance didn't know which one of them was moving closer, but he didn't want it to stop. “That was the thing about you, Lance. I thought I’d figured the general idea of people out when they leave: They don’t come back. But you kept coming back. No matter how mean I was to you, or how much distance I put between me and you, you kept coming back. I left and spent a year in a _desert_ and I still don't know how you came back.”

“I’m always gonna come back to you, Keith,” Lance promised, unable to stop his eyes jumping back and forth from his eyes to his lips. “And if Shiro being declared dead, then coming back to Earth on the night Hunk and I were tailing Pidge who happened to be scanning the skies for UFOs the same night you were isn't enough to prove to you that this is destiny, then I don't know what is.”

When Keith snorted and rolled his eyes, Lance felt the tips of their noses brush and it gave him goosebumps.

“So now do you trust me?” Lance asked, soft and private into the small, small space between them.

Keith didn't need to think about it. He blinked slowly and unleashed a heart-stalling, genuine smile. “Yes, Lance,” Keith answered, lips brushing against Lance’s as he did so and Lance felt it tingle down his spine as he smiled in return, leaned in to press his lips firmly to Keith’s when a pop sounded over the speakers. Keith shot up, Lance right behind him.

“ _Fuck_!” Pidge yelled. “Right in my ear!”

“What happened?” Hunk fretted. “Is the sound working now?” Then he gasped and shouted: “Pidge we missed something! They were about to kiss!”

“ _What_?!” Pidge hollered. Lance could see her head pop up into the window. “Shit they’re looking at us. They heard us. The sound is working again. Hey, Lance, you didn't hear us yelling at you to kiss him did you?”

Embarrassed, Keith flushed and disentangled their fingers, though he helped Lance to his feet once he got to his and their hands lingered together. Keith offered a small, shy smile, then looked away, tucking hair behind his ear.

Somehow it made Lance swoon, which was a nice distraction from the frustration of being cockblocked so severely. “Hey!” He shouted at the control room. “Deactivate the maze! You promised!”

“Proud of you guys!” A new voice called out.

Keith’s expression went still, then became mortified. “Oh, my God, _Shiro?_!” The moment the maze was fully deactivated, Keith was fidgeting, trying to find the words to say to Lance before finally just taking off out of the training deck.

Lance smiled, finding Keith to be endearing like this. He knew they weren't finished just yet.

“Hey, way to go, Lance,” Shiro cheered and it made Lance _cringe_.

“Gah, Jesus _fuck_ , oh my _God_ , Shiro!”

*

Lance wasn't too stupid to notice Keith avoiding him at every turn after Lance had come clean about his intentions. It took a momentary backburner in the face of the tragic news concerning the lost pilots of the Kerberos mission. If Keith had been bad before, the news utterly wrecked him. Lance saw his face when he heard.

He spurned every attempt Lance made at comforting him, at just trying to get him to talk about it. After a while, he wouldn't even look at him.

“You can't make him talk to you,” Hunk had soothed one such afternoon after seeing Lance’s face when Keith walked right past him. Like he hadn't even see him, hadn't registered someone else was there.

“I know how this looks,” he’d said, unable to force a smile about it anymore. “I’d love for him to talk to me. Or at least just let me talk to him, but look at him. He’s a wreck. He’s… self-destructing. He needs someone.”

“Lance,” Hunk sighed, looking helpless.

“It doesn't have to be me, but he needs someone.”

Keith started to look half-dead. His eyes didn't shine anymore, accentuated only by the thick dark bags underneath them, hair grown scraggly and unkempt, skin sallow and seemingly pulled tighter over his cheekbones.

He’d stopped participating in class, stopped taking notes. Lance caught him jerking awake in class and that was one thing. To catch him doing that while walking down the halls was something else entirely.

“Fuck,” Lance moaned out. “How do I help him?”

“You can't, Lance,” Hunk shook his head sadly. “You can’t force this, buddy. He’ll just pull further away.”

“No one else even cares!” Lance protested, flopping down onto his bed. “There has to be something I can do.” Because Keith was going somewhere scary.

It wasn't long before Keith started acting out. Snapping back at their professors and refusing to answer others. He was brilliant in the simulator, but didn't take criticism well and he went ballistic any time someone brought up the Kerberos mission as an example for what not to do.

It all came to a head on their third week of training with the simulator. Keith was always exemplary and he came out looking even more tired than before. “Come on, cadet, look alive,” Iverson said carefully, like he knew Keith was a ticking time bomb and the ticking was getting faster. “Where’s your pride in a job well-done?”

“I don't know.” Keith shrugged, then turned tired, angry eyes onto him. “Where’s Shiro?”

“Cadet,” Iverson sighed out, like he was breathing out every last ounce of his energy. “I am warning you to drop it, or it’s not going to be pretty.”

“Unlike you, _sir_ ,” Keith seethed, “I can't do that. I’m not gonna just accept that three perfectly intelligent and capable pilots failed this mission due to _carelessness_. What aren't you telling us?”

“Keith, _stop_ ,” Lance called, making his way closer to him.

“You should listen to your friend,” Iverson advised, deceptively patiently folding his arms across his chest.

The other boy continued on as if he hadn't spoken a word. “Do you think it’s right that we just keep going about business as usual when they’re out there somewhere lost or suffering, or maybe even _dying_?”

“Cadet-”

“Is that what the Garrison is about?!” Keith roared. “We get you off-planet, but once you make it, you’re not our problem anymore?!”

“Cadet, I am warning you to cease and desist.” Iverson’s voice was startlingly calm and though it didn't seem to phase Keith in the slightest, Lance felt himself pushing forward to cover him. “One more word and you’ll be expelled.”

Keith bristled beside him, face scrunched up like for a minute, that was the last thing he wanted. Within the span of a second, that all changed, eyes set heavy and resistant as his frown deepened and he opened his mouth, said: “Maybe that’s a good thing! It’s better than being a part of something that leaves its pilots for dead!”

“Keith, _shut up_!” Lance yelled, trying to shake him, but Keith shoved him away, just as Iverson stomped his foot.

“That’s it, cadet,” he said evenly. “Pack your bags, you’re gone!”

Keith’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his face went stony again. He scoffed. “Fine.” Then he was storming out of the simulation hangar.

Against his better judgement, Lance ran after him, though Keith wasn't making it easy, strides long, fast, and angry down the empty corridors. “Keith, what the hell was that?”

Keith remained silent and furious, turning corners with lightening speed as Lance skidded behind him.

“Come on, dude, talk to me! Please,” Lance pleaded desperately. “You’re just gonna leave? Because of the Kerberos mission?”

At that, Keith levelled a fiery side glare at him that shut Lance up for nearly ten seconds before he lost control again.

“Please, Keith don't do this!” Lance begged, turning the corner onto the hallway Keith stayed in. “We’ll go back to Iverson and I’ll do all the talking. We can get him to let this go, I’m good at that, just please don't _leave_!” Keith froze. “Please don't leave like this.”

They were outside his door and Keith didn't press the sensor to head inside. He stood there with his hand next to it on the wall for a full minute before he finally met Lance in the eyes. “I’m gonna find out what happened if it kills me. It’s okay that this all happened. I don't really care about Iverson anyway.”

“Keith, you’re the best pilot in our class,” Lance insisted, shaking his head.

“It doesn't fucking matter. I don't care. I’m gonna find Shiro.”

“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble!” Lance exclaimed, tired of this attitude, tired of this idea that all this was a sensible thing to do. “Or you’re gonna get yourself killed! You don't know what you’re doing!”

“I know enough,” Keith insisted, serious, confident, and sure. “I learned enough. I’m doing this and you can't stop me.” With that, he put his hand on the sensor and his door whooshed open, revealing an unmade bed, books and scraps of paper all over the place and a pile of clothes on the floor.

Just what he’d always pictured of Keith. He couldn't lose him like this. “ _Keith-_ ”

“I did like you,” Keith said suddenly, from the other side of his doorway. “Just… so you know.”

Then the door shut with Lance on the wrong side of it.

He didn't know how long he stood there, before the security guards made it there to get Keith, but it could have been eons. They sent him away, told him to go back to class, but he couldn't. He couldn't handle Iverson, or the other students that saw it all, or the simulator Keith would never sit in again.

He went to his room.

When Hunk came, he brought food that he snuck from the commissary. He flicked on the lights to see Lance sitting on his bed against the wall, the same way he had been for hours. “Lance? Buddy?”

Lance turned cool blue eyes onto his friend and saw the hurt in concern directed at him. Miserably, he shook his head. “He’s gone.”

Lance was moved up to fighter class. It was bittersweet. Keith was gone, but somehow Lance didn't feel like that was the end. Keith liked him. Somehow Lance didn't feel like this was the end of that either.

*

The rest of the team had gone to bed hours ago. Lance thought about sneaking over to Keith’s room and surprising him. He thought about braving the hallways there under the cover of night (deep space) bursting through the door, and sweeping him off his feet. He thought about starting up a new regime wherein he kissed Keith breathless every moment they weren't Voltron.

He thought about kicking Shiro’s ass for not only cockblocking them, but doing it in a gross way. In his fantasies, Shiro didn't murder him, then wipe the floor with his corpse.

He decided, upon the late hour, to go to sleep for now and try it all again tomorrow. To banish Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro to their rooms, find some asinine task to distract Allura and Coran while he put all his efforts into properly wooing Keith. He turned over in his bed, burrowed himself into his sheets when a tiny knock sounded against his door.

He felt a spark of hope start from his chest and spread throughout his body. He rose from his bed, grinning stupidly, uncontrollably, as he advanced upon the door.

His had been a stupid plan anyway.

There he was, in his doorway, beautiful and happy and smiling so, so wide his eyes squinted. “Hey,” he said, soft and just for him, controlled like he was trying not to overwhelm them.

Lance emitted a heartfelt chuckle, leaned forward to bump his nose up against Keith’s. “Hey.”

Blindly, he reached down for Keith’s hand, turning on his heel to drag Keith inside, but Keith softly pulled his hand away. Confused, Lance turned back to see that Keith’s overjoyed beam had become something coy and knowingly, though adorably a little nervous underneath, Lance only being able to tell because if he knew anything with absolute certainty, it was Keith’s face.

“Something wrong?” Lance asked, raising a playful eyebrow.

Instead of answering, Keith stepped forward, slow and deliberate as the automatic door shut behind him. He watched Lance from under his eyelids, smirk curling up his face and he nodded his head once. “ _Wow_ ,” he breathed out. Deep and earthy, it tingled in Lance’s bones. Keith slowly brought his hands up to Lance’s shoulders and began to walk him back. “Your eyes are really blue.”

“Yeah?” Lance grinned, unable to stop himself bringing his hands up to cover Keith’s atop his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Keith breathed out a small laugh, lips quirking up to the side in that smirk as he blinked, slow and hypnotizing. “Like what people say the ocean looks like, or the ring around the moon.”

Lance felt his legs hit the back of the bed before he was pushed back to sit on the edge, Keith crawling onto his lap, legs splayed on either side of his hips. The Blue Paladin smiled in elation as Keith draped his arms over Lance’s shoulders, hands brushing warm against his back. He looked down with hooded eyes into Lance’s and Lance molded his hands to the free skin of Keith’s hips where his shirt had ridden up.

“It’s my favorite color, actually,” Keith continued, voice lilting and seductive in its siren song. “Blue.”

Lance pulled him ever closer against him. “Purple,” he admitted.

“I didn't know that,” Keith admitted back, visibly touched.

“Not many people do,” Lance continued smugly, rubbing circles into Keith’s hips with his thumbs, smiling proudly when Keith jolted, cheeks going red as the corners of his mouth turned up further.

“And why,” Keith taunted, “why do I get this inside info?”

“Because I love you,” Lance replied, open and honest with not a thing to hide as he looked up into Keith’s dark eyes. Keith went still a moment, locks of hair falling into his eyes. Lance pushed them back, ran his hand down his heated face. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you.”

Keith’s eyes went soft, squinting with the stretch of his smile and crinkling at the edges. “Yeah?” He asked, almost bashful as he tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of Lance’s neck. “You love me?”

“Yeah, dude,” Lance laughed softly into the air between them, overjoyed and unable to contain himself.

Keith laughed back, just as soft, just as sugary, just as gone as Lance was. He leaned down further, said softly into his ear. “I love you, too.”

Keith had just enough time to pull back before Lance’s lips claimed his in a clumsy mess of too much tongue and clashing teeth and Keith laughed all the way through it, tugged at Lance’s hair to tilt his head until it was better. “Sleep here tonight?” Lance asked against against hot lips as Keith pushed him onto his back.

“Definitely,” Keith breathed, beautiful and intoxicating above him, dark hair framing his face like a halo.

“God, you better be here when I wake up,” Lance sighed, delirious. He thought he could never go back to not being able to see Keith like this.

“I’ll stay,” Keith vowed, grinning as Lance’s hands traveled slowly up his shirt. “I hated running from you the most.”


End file.
